


A Den of Iniquity

by sp00kworm



Category: Bram Stoker's Dracula (1992), Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Adult Content, Animal Transformation, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood and Injury, Child Death, Continuation, Death, Disturbing Themes, Dracul, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/M, Gore, Graphic Description of Corpses, Graphic Description of Injuries, Implied Sexual Content, Modern Era, Murder, Order of the Dracul, Parties, Shapeshifting, Shops, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Vomiting, Wolf Pack, Wolves, companies, corporate setting, dark themes, hibernation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:02:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 30,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25600273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sp00kworm/pseuds/sp00kworm
Summary: You nodded, “I do…I…” You laughed at his interest, “I’m surprised you have done so much research about me.”Sharp white teeth were exposed in a smile as he look at his garden and the littering of glasses and people, “I like to know who I am going to sell to…It can tell you a lot about an individual, madame.” He offered as he moved your hand from his arm, “Perhaps we can talk more in a meeting? I am scheduling appointments.”“I would like that.” You confirmed, “I’m interested in your product, that’s for sure.”Dracula felt himself purr, “Delightful.”
Relationships: Count Dracula/Female Reader, Dracula/Female Reader, Dracula/Reader, count dracula/reader, vampire/reader
Comments: 14
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

Silence spread like a plague through the bowels of the castle. It was abandoned by all and had been for close to one hundred and twenty years. The banners no longer flew on the poles, and sat in rotten, tangled messes at the bases, ropes in ashy clumps of hemp. The stone was caving in some places, the old cement falling from between the stones. The wooden support for the roof had rotted away in many places, and the main entry way was filled with snow in the winter from the mountains. Still, once a year, there was movement within the castle grounds. Once a year a group of figures walked through the early spring, just as the snow began to melt on the mountain passes. With them, they carried an infant through the chill and into the old, abandoned keep. Winching the gate open, the men helped the mother and her child inside, leaving two to guard the entrance as the rest of the troop moved into the grounds, climbing over fallen stone and rotten wood in order to enter the castle.

“The doors have fallen.” One man remarked in Romanian, scratching at his head as he helped the woman inside, “We must fix them in the summer.” He remarked as he clasped her hand and helped her over a fallen beam.

“There will not be a next time for me.” She spoke plainly as she uncovered her babes face, “Not for our son either.” She clutched the blankets, tears dripping from her eyes, “I can’t do this.” She wept as they descended the stairs into the bowels of the crypts.

The crypt was musty, stinking of fermented mud and old cobwebs. Dust clung to the stone tombs and rotten wooden spears lay broken in the thick sludge. The corpses had long since dropped off the spears, impaled bodies festering in the mud, now part of the soil that squelched beneath their boots.

“It stinks of death.” Her husband coughed, covering his mouth with a handkerchief as they approached the great stone tomb sat in the room, central to those littered around the sides in rotten holes. Light no longer entered the crypt, the stairway draped with fallen cloth and old curtains. They moved by torch light, trying to ignore the smell and crunch of bodies in the mud. The stone tomb was rotting as well, the stone features blurring with the wash of water and time. The man raised his hand, handing his wife the torch before he heaved a crowbar beneath the stone and pushed the tablet away, revealing a corpse beneath, still and silent as the dead.

“This…This is what I am to give my child to?!” She screeched, outraged, tears dripping over her cheeks, wetting the blankets as her husband wrestled to take the child.

“We have no choice!” He insisted, “This is the blood pact. It is how we survive!” He took his own babe in his arms and felt his throat clench tight as he began to scream, “He will kill us if not…” The man whispered as he moved to lay the child in the crypt, on top of the corpses’ chest.

“Please! Please, he is our child!” The woman sobbed behind her coat and cloak, weeping as her husband dragged her through the mud.

“We have to go!” He insisted, “We’ve already been here too long!”

With a cry she tore free from her husband’s grasp and thundered through the mud, reaching for the baby inside the tomb with a sob. The baby clutched to her chest, she tucked the blankets around his arms and turned away.

“Put him back!” Her husband roared as he tore towards her.

The two of them grew silent with terror as a clawed, rotten hand curled around the stone of the tomb, claws tearing into the wet stone as a great rumble sounded through the crypt.

“I told you!” Her husband screamed as he rushed towards them, his hands reaching for the baby. His wife screamed and held her baby tighter to her chest, “Why did you not listen?!”

The prune flesh was followed by an ancient body, wrinkled flesh slumping as the creature crawled upwards. The woman caught sight of the fangs inside it’s decrepit mouth and howled with fear, burying into her husband’s side.

A great gasp of rotten air left the beast as it pulled itself up the stone and out of its burial place, the monster purring, spittle dripping from white fangs, dropping into the mud as it drew closer. A howl rumbled in the stone around them as the gold and red clad monster drew closer. Tattered clothing dripped from its shoulders as it drew ever closer, blood staining the old clothing everywhere. It howled again and the couple walked backwards towards the stairwell, their son screaming with the noise as they did.

Spit dripped from it’s chin, “You would betray your bloodline…over one child?” It hissed in old Romanian, fangs flashing as it prowled over to them, appearing bigger than before, the clothing dripping from its form as an upturned nose faced them, ears long and sharp, skin turning leathery as fur covered its shoulders.

“He is our only son.” The husband begged, shielding his wife as the monster came close, smelling the air, wings spread, “Please.”

“I will not let you beg for your traitorous lives.” It spat as total darkness eclipsed them, the rags of curtains blocking the entrance falling away under the rumble of stone. The stones clattered down the stairs and the beast howled, the noise ricocheting off the walls.

In total darkness it moved. Prowling close, he reached a clawed wing for the husband and tore open his throat with a satisfied hiss, monstrous mouth closing over the wound as he let the hot blood pour into his stomach, quenching the burning in his guts. The wife cried, her baby screaming, as she crawled through the festering corpses towards the stairs. The vampire ignored her as he drank his fill, letting out a beastly sigh of contempt before the burning ravaged him again. The need to drink. He had slept too long. In the dark, he pried her hands from her child and peered at it as she wept against the stone, her fists balled. Red eyes watched the scene before he hushed the baby, fangs silencing it by compressing its airways. The fresh, new-born blood made his body thrum. Untainted and new. He dropped the child much like his father and felt himself grumble, blood stained face drawing close to the mother. He felt his face shift as the new power coursed through his veins. He was more human, hissing against her ear as she curled tight.

“I have nothing.” She wept.

The beast above her dripped blood into her hair, “You always were nothing.” He spat with venom before grappling her under the arm, baring her throat before he sank his fangs deep. Grunting, he let the last of his meal pour into his throat, burning hatred subsiding as he dropped her into the mud to rot with the rest.

The taste and smells of the new century burned in his mouth and nose, the blood filling his head with ideas of what was in the world now. They lived sedentary lives, holed up at home in the Winter. He ran his tongue over his teeth at the memory of their newborn’s birth. The anguish. The pain. The defeat of knowing they would have to give their baby away. Feelings and sensations rippled through him as the beast snorted in the darkness, licking blood from his chin and wiping the remains from his chest before sticking his claws into his mouth as well. The first breath of life. The baby was sinking into the mud, silent as he moved to pick it up. He wiped the mud from its round face and peered at its pale skin. Its squalling was silent. He was reminded of a dream he had once had, when he’d laid with Elisabeta, of a child squealing in a crib, wrapped in green silk. When he’d touched the baby he’d heard his wife call for him from the bed. It had appeared in her arms, suckling, and he’d been in a state of adoration. Slowly, they had faded, rot growing over Elisabeta’s face before she and the baby burned into nothing and he was left in darkness. With a grumble he laid the child on the staircase and pulled a rotten piece of cloth away, wrapping it tight in a bundle before he moved the filth of the room away enough to bury it, away from prying eyes. The adults he left for the rats and spiders. A couple bounced over stones before sniffing at the male and squirming under his clothing before beginning to chew at him.

Red eyes watched as he felt memories and faces flit before his eyes. Hallucinations? He did not know. The ghost of a woman smiled behind a strong glass of absinthe, her eyes full of curiosity as she sipped, eyeing him over the dainty crystal.

“Mina.” He rumbled, stumbling forwards, hands gripping the imaginary back of a chair before she smiled and disappeared, a sugar cube on her tongue as she too rotted away into the mud. The monster fell forwards, feeling his gut churn as he retched, spit falling past his lips as he peered into the next memory. The mud disappeared as he crawled into a simple bed.

“Mina.” He rumbled again as he perched over the woman, so similar, he realised, to his wife. She grasped at him as he kissed her hot skin with cold lips, fangs grazing the flesh before they promised each other everything. Her neck crunched underneath his bite and he felt tears drip from his eyes as she cried in pain. Nothing had ever made him so happy yet so sad as to welcome her into his fold. It burned away like the rest of the images as he stumbled backwards, gazing at his own chest where a great bowie knife pierced the flesh. He howled and reached to tear the blade free, watching as blood poured before the wound sealed itself shut. As he snarled into darkness his eyes widened at the memory of being hunted across Europe. Mina. Mina had pushed the blade through his chest. As he died she had dragged him to the crypt, placing his head with his body once more as she replaced the knife in his heart. A phantom kiss trailed over his lips as she closed the tomb.

“Sleep, my prince. Sleep and grow strong again.”

Red eyes glanced at the corpses as Mina’s words burned in his ears, ringing in his head as he growled, stalking close to the male’s corpse. He opened the coat and growled as he struggled to feel for things, his arms cracking and shifting so he could push his fingers into the pockets. After a moment looking, the monster pulled out a wallet and held it delicately in his claws, opening the leather to gaze at the business cards and other trinkets he did not understand. He tugged free a blood red business card and looked at the name.

_‘Dracula’s Blood. Wine and Rum from the depths of Transylvania.’_

The vampire touched his name on the card and rumbled again as wolves howled outside. The curtains fluttered to reveal the sunset outside. With a snarl he threw the wallet into his tomb and moved back towards the stairs, watching for the curtains moving. They did and he rumbled, pleased as night fell outside. Dracula crawled from the pit, his clawed hands rippling with fur as he pushed his head through the silk and cloth, snarling with fangs as red eyes burned through the fabric. He took a deep inhale and crawled forwards, standing to his full height before he howled at the sky and tearing towards the smell of fresh, warm bodies.

“They have been gone too long. The beast has had them.” The elder male shouldered his rifle at the noise of the wolves in the surrounding pass, “We have to get home.” The group felt the air grow thick, heavy with a presence unknown to them.

“It is already here.” One woman whispered before she was dragged into the darkness screaming and kicking her legs. Blood splattered over the mud and dripped from her corpse by the castle as the rest of the group huddled together, crosses clutched in their hands.

“We are doomed.” The elder hissed as he watched a wolf jump up the wall, snarling and dripping spit onto the stone. More soon followed it, snarling and barking to one another, holding the people together in a circle, hounding their heels when they tried to move. They were trapped.

The woman clutched her silver crucifix tightly as the great beast crawled from the castle wall, blood dripping over its chest.

“You’ve had your fill, monster!” One woman held her cross defensively.

Dracula eyed the cross and howled again. The wolves closed in tighter as the people gasped, their crosses melting against their hands.

“We have done as you asked for over a century, my lord.” The elder bowed his head as Dracula prowled along the stone, wolfish nose snarling, blood dripping into the mud. He snarled as he rose to his full height again, fur matted with blood.

“Yet, at the last moment, you sought to deceive me.” His low, booming voice echoed off the stone, “She took her child from me.” He announced, claws dragging over the stone, “Treachery and thievery.” Dracula swung his arms wide with a howl. The wolves snarled in return and dragged a woman from the group by her ankles, tearing her away from the rest. The beasts tore a chunk from her ankle, but latched on again with another snap of yellowed teeth, snarling against her screaming as they dragged her to their master. Dracula sniffed and blew cold air onto her neck before he tore it open, red eyes blazing as he watched the group begin to scream and cry. He drank his fill quickly and grumbled, bones shifting in his undead body as he commanded the beasts in Romanian, harshly, sharp in his tone. They snapped at one another but tore a man free by his arm and leg, two more joining the first in order to drag him from the travellers. Dracula watched their fear, striding from left to right and back again as the one with the rifle aimed it at his head. Ignoring the gun he snarled and tore open the next one, slapping his claws through his tummy, ripping organs free before he let one of his pets have the body.

He laughed, exposing sharp teeth and his chest to the rifle, “Shoot!” Dracula cooed, “Shoot me and watch your bullet’s work.” They were speaking prayers now and Dracula howled again, the wolves snarling and dragging at a woman’s coat, dragging her by her shoulder and arm to his clutches.

The gun’s safety clicked off and he grinned as he pinned the arms of the woman, teeth bared over her neck, one foot pressed to her stomach to hold her still. She bruised in his grasp.

“God forgive me.” The elder whispered before he pulled the trigger.

Dracula grunted at the bullet, feeling it ping off his organs before it was pushed back the way it entered. With a snarl, the monster held his hand out, watching the bullet fall from his chest, the hole sealing behind it.

“Your God has forsaken you.” Dracula howled before he killed the woman and snapped at the wolves. The pack descended on the rest of the group, tearing them open as he leaned to have his fill of the women before she died. He closed his fangs around her throat and drank before leaving his pack to eat.

The monster dragged himself back into the castle, blood drying on his skin as it began to peel and wshed from his body, the blood restoring power he had not possessed in many years. He turned toe the door and clicked to the wolves, “Leave one…alive.” He was tired as he climbed over the rotten wood and fallen stone into his old home. Dracula snorted as he crept back into the crypt, stepping over the two bodies as he climbed back into his tomb, pulling the stone over his body as he buried himself deep in the dirt. Before he closed his eyes, he reached for the wallet once more and looked at the cards inside. He pulled the ID from the pouch and tapped the last name with a claw. He looked at the company card again and purred as he buried himself deeper in the soil, skin sagging as he morphed and changed through the beginnings of restoring himself.

He knocked three times on the door of the home in the town. The devil couldn’t knock three times. The town had changed since his hibernation, the town expansive and huge with the tale of his legend painted on tourist shops and slapped on items of all sorts. Dracula lowered his head at passers-by. They avoided him like most other tourists, and he watched them with curious brown eyes, dark hair tied back from his face and a suitable suit on. The black suit was well fitting, made for this moment to impress with the pretend wealth of an investor. He needed a way out and a way back into civilization. He’d dipped into the insane amount of gold stored beneath his own grave. Gold chalices, necklaces and jewels of all kinds from the church. Just one necklace had given him a fortune from an international buyer. The last member of the family he had indebted to him had organised everything. It hurt him to see such pieces gone, but the money would be enough to secure the business he wanted. The wine and rum business. He looked at the card between his gloved fingers and waited for the door to open. When the door did slide open, he smiled pleasantly, “Mister and Misses Dumitru. I am sorry to hear of your loss.” He bowed his head as Missus Dumitru called over her husband, “I know it is still a sensitive time, but I have come with a proposition. A business venture.” He offered, touching the place over his heart, “May I come in?”

They nodded and let him inside.

“Your Romanian, you speak it like a nobleman.” Missus Dumitru cooed over coffee. Dracula pretended to sip the liquid and feigned the heat in his mouth before placing the cup down, finding and excuse for now as not to take another sip.

“I was sent to a private school.” He informed her gently as he reached for his small bag and pulled free a contact. It was drawn up to sign the deeds to the land and business over to his name. He’d managed to contact his old law firm to draw it up, “The contract and payments are very generous.” He offered, “I myself would be overseeing it.” He tapped a nail against the papers and reclined in his chair, adjusting his cane against the leg of the old armchair as Mister Dumitru looked over the terms.

“Why do you want our son’s business?” He asked suspiciously.

Dracula spread his hands, “I’m looking to expand abroad. This is the perfect opportunity.” He responded.

“Can I have a name?” Mister Dumitru asked as he eyed the sum of money listed.

Dracula smiled, “Vladimir Székely.” And offered an open palm towards the paperwork, “Give it to a lawyer. Think it over. I will be waiting.” He pulled a card from the inside of his black jacket and laid it on the table for them both to see. “There is a number for my office. Do contact me when you have made your decision.” He tipped his head before taking his bag and cane, “Thank you for your hospitality, Missus Dumitru.” He leaned to kiss the back of her hand, smiling at her giggling before seeing himself to the door.

“He didn’t drink a sip.” She lamented behind the door as he closed it.

“Perhaps he isn’t a coffee drinker?” Her husband replied. Dracula smiled as he swung his cane, walking down the street.

“I swear he said he preferred coffee.”

London was a long way in a box. Yet, when he emerged from his resting place, to stalk the night time streets, he could feel the overwhelming sensation of being like a small fish. He looked at the faces passing him by from the alley and peered at the unfamiliar streets. As the vampire wandered, the stone was vaguely familiar. Some old cobbled roads had survived, but most were new, black tarmac and congestion. The taste of the city was riddled with pollutants beyond what he remembered. The foreign taste of unfamiliar blood seemed less tempting as he walked, looking at the newly erected skyscrapers with a hint of fascination. Everything was new. Wondrously new.

“Mister Székely?” He was startled from his admiration as one of his companions touched his elbow. The accountant and the lawyer. The firm seemed to have been taken over by Harker eventually.

Dracula gave a chuckle, “I apologise. London is so different to the cities I know.” He offered as he ducked to enter the firm. It was late, but they had accepted the late meeting. He’d insisted to meet them both as soon as he landed in London. Everything was very new, but he was learning. Dracula was still very sound of mind. A tactician mind still worked within his skull, no matter how dead he truly was.

“It’s fine, really, we have many foreign clients. Most are just as gobsmacked as you!” Harker, the descendant it seemed, of Jonathan, laughed as he let the accountant into his office behind Dracula.

Dracula settled into the chair offered and peered at the family photo behind the Lawyer’s head. Mina and Harker. Together to the end. He ignored the spite churning in his gut as he sat forwards and opened his palms, “I’m sure you both know why I have you here, no?”

Harker laughed, “I’m your Lawyer. I don’t need to know much else. I made sure your purchases here in London were overseen. A particularly large home for just yourself, Mister Székely?” He offered Vladimir the paperwork, bundled together in files.

“I’m certain the books have balanced, what with your business doing so well. You are a very lucky man.” His accountant observed, Miss Morris looked at him pointedly before smiling, American white smile making him return her sentiment.

“I am very lucky.” Vladimir agreed before taking the paperwork in his hands, “I trust the house is in working order now? I believe I paid for the decorating to be done as I travelled.”

Harker nodded, “It was all completed.” He gestured to Miss Morris and smiled pleasantly.

“They were paid for their work and your belongings were delivered before you arrived.” She handed him the bill and scribbled something in the margin of her book, “Everything is in working order.”

Dracula nodded, “I thank you then, for your hard work.” He offered as he moved to stand, buttoning the suit jacket he wore swiftly before reaching for his black coat on the stand. It had started to rain.

Harker was quickly on his feet, “Do you not wish to stay for a drink?” He offered as he tucked the corner of his shirt back into the waistband of his trousers, “I have a few things we could open to celebrate, though I don’t have any of that plum brandy you’re so famous for making.” The Lawyer joked.

Miss Morris chuckled and got to her feet herself, taking her purple wool coat in hand, “I should be off too, Mister Harker, I have to meet with some clients in Kent in the morning.” She too pulled on her coat as Vladimir pulled on his own. He turned the collar upwards and smiled as he gestured to the doorway.

“I do not drink.” He smiled at Harker before allowing Morris to walk through the door first, “After you, madame.”

Harker laughed, “Another time, perhaps?”

Dark eyes looked at the lawyer for a long pause, “Another time, indeed. For now, I must go. I have to present my products to investors tomorrow.” With that he turned to the stairs and took them with Morris down and out of the little firm. Morris shook his hand with a brush of her dark hair and popped her umbrella up before leaving the vampire by himself under the streetlamp. He watched his accountant leave before turning back down the street, eyes burning red as he took in the night air and stalked towards his new home, intent on having a feast to break in his new territory.

_‘You are cordially invited to attend a gathering at the home of Mister Vladimir Sz_ _ékely, CEO and owner of Dracula’s Blood, Brewery Company. The gathering is in honour of not only his settlement in the United Kingdom of Great Britain but also to promote the start to the new line of flavoured Rums from the depths of Transylvania._

_Dracula’s Blood hopes you can attend the event._

_Best Wishes and Kindest Regards,_

_Mr Vladimir Sz_ _ékely, CEO.’_

You eyed the card that had appeared through your door. You were used to company promotional material. You were a specialist. Alcohols from all over the globe and in all varieties. Wine, beers, lagers, spirits. You sold everything and more in your shop. Looking at the display in your window you traced the dragon print on the bottom of the invitation and wondered just who set up parties to promote their brands. A very rich man was what your mind supplied. With a curious sniff you brought the paper to your nose. Spiced rum. Very curious but it fit the theme. It made you chuckle as you glanced back at your unfinished display, then back to the address and date on the piece of card. It was a large townhouse in Sydenham, a large suburb made for rather large families or the rich towards Crystal Palace. The townhouses were expensive, and most were very old. You pulled out your phone to type in the address and whistled at the images on Google. Sydenham Hill. It was a huge townhouse. At least six bedrooms. This man had money to waste. Old brick, Victorian style.

“It couldn’t hurt to go could it?” You jumped against the counter as Harker laughed behind you.

“Jesus!” You hissed at him, “Could you ring the bell next time?!” You smacked his hands away from your invitation.

Harker laughed at you and pointed to his own phone and then the buzzer, “I buzzed you three times before figuring it out it was unlocked.” He shrugged, “I’ve just come for the usual. One of those Sauvignon you always sell me.”

You threw your phone back under the counter and turned to the wine racks behind you, pulling free one of the bottles he usually bought, “How long are you keeping this one then, Harker?” You asked as you scanned the bottle, “This is the third bottle, so you’ve not scared them away yet then?”

The lawyer rolled his eyes, “None of your business.” He teased as he purchased the bottle of wine on his card before eyeing the new whiskey in the crates behind you, “Actually, give me one of those scotch whiskeys too. I know for sure I’m getting dumped so…better to have that on hand than make myself incredibly sick with sharp white wine.” He lamented as you scanned the whiskey and handed it over. He tucked both the bottles into his leather work bag and paid for the whiskey just as quickly.

“But seriously, I’d go. It’ll get you out of this little shop and talking!” Harker cheered as he headed to the door.

“Sure, Mister Harker. Get home safe.” The mousey haired man waved away your concern as he headed back out into the night, his umbrella swaying in the wind and the rain.

As you locked up late that night, just after eight o’clock, locking the door after the last woman who rushed about with her red wine and waved as you clicked the lock closed behind her. The invitation sat on your countertop still. You took hold of the spiced card and traced the dragon in the corner again as you climbed the stairs to your apartment above the shop. The name was hand signed. The lettering was in old cursive, long letters and small, neat strokes of a fountain pen. You admired the invitation as you opened your apartment and placed the invitation on the kitchen side. The decorative dragon shined on cream paper and you pushed leftovers into the microwave before looking for where to respond to on the back of the invitation. An email. That was easy enough. You crafted a small confirmation email with your business details enclosed and went back to your heated spaghetti. Curiously, the phone vibrated on the counter, spinning with a chime as you received a notification.

With a hot plate of microwaved bolognese, you peered at the email and frowned. It was from his office. A reply to your email.

_‘I await your arrival. Kind Regards, Vladimir.’_

Short, but odd. You assumed you would have an email from an automated machine. Still, you shrugged it off and saved the directions and pamphlets attached on the email before sitting down to eat your dinner. You laughed as your black tom cat screeched from under your chair, demanding a piece of beef covered in tomato sauce instead of his cat food.

“Come on Drac, you have your own food!” You petted the cats head and shooed him away to his food bowl as you ate your own dinner.

Vladimir hummed from behind his desk as he opened the name of your Off-License Shop. A fancy sort, stocking exclusive brands and names from all over the globe. A Wine House and Spirit Seller. He tapped his desk with a claw, ignoring the woman bleeding out on the floor in favour of digging a little more. He was interested. A little woman running a shop. Alone in London. Still. He closed the tab with a click and looked at your email. You were a modern woman. It was an idea he was quickly growing accustomed to. Empowered women. He hummed again as he gently pulled the woman into his lap and pushed hair from her face. She was weak, but not dead. He couldn’t afford to leave a mess.

“You remember nothing.” He whispered against her cheek before grappling her weight tight in his arms and moving to deposit her into a guest bedroom. The vampire pushed his fingers into her hips roughly and watched the bruises bloom. She would run in the morning when she made conclusions of her own. A single night of passion. With a look at her neck he decided the marks would not be an issue. They had, after all, met in an odd club. Dracula left the woman in the guest room and headed back to his own. He looked at the clock and knew that there were some hours left for him in the night. The dirt under his bed could wait for a while. With an obsessive, red gaze, he began to research those who would be attending his soiree.

A fancy party meant that you were forced to dress up. A sharp black suit and a lilac shirt on, you walked up the drive from the cab and stood in awe of the twinkling candles draped from holders inside and out. It was an old building yet somehow, the old décor choices made it even more amazing. A car beeped behind you as an attendant rolled up in a Jaguar. The car was parked and you watched as a very elegant woman and her large husband climbed out, leaving it in the created car park. You felt out of your depth as you held the invitation in your hand, moving towards the door with a smile. It was open, yet a young woman greeted you on the door, a checklist in hand.

“Invitation, please?” She asked and you carefully handed her the invitation, “Name?” You gave her it and peered inside until she chuckled and gently pulled you inside, “Welcome to Vladimir Székely’s home, Miss.” She let you in and attended to the other guests. It was even more intimidating to be looked at in your suit. Women were in varying dress, though most appeared to have opted for cocktail dresses. You tried to ignore the looks and headed towards the drink’s table.

“Of course, its all his own liquor.” You laughed as you took one of the plum rum varieties and thanked the server.

Vladimir sure knew how to impress the guests.

The party was slow. Food and drink had been served for an hour and you were beginning to wonder if the man himself was ever going to show. You pulled open your small clutch and looked at your phone. A message from your mother. That was all. Some business emails which could wait. It was a boring moment of time passing. That was until guests began to gather in the main staircase area. You followed with your drink and peered through the crowd of onlookers as Vladimir Székely appeared on the stairs, a drink in hand, and a scarily white smile shining in a pale face. His dark hair was pulled back into a stylish pony tail and fastened with a blue that matched the silk of his waistcoat, the brocade pattern even embellished into the small ribbon fastener. His smile was surrounded by dark facial hair, a moustache and a small beard, almost pointed. Dark eyes looked at the crowd as his silver suit shined in the candlelight, the polished buttons and silver cufflinks twinkling as he raised his hands for attention. The room went silent.

“My name, as most of you know, is Vladimir Székely. Welcome to my home.” The crowd raised their drinks and the CEO raised his hands again to quieten the noise, “I hope you will enjoy the comforts of my home as your own. I extend my hand in friendship but also as a businessman. I will be around to answer questions. But, most importantly,” He leaned forwards, dark eyes full of mischief, “I do hope you have fun.” The crowd applauded as he descended the stairs and you felt your throat clench at the sight of him. Romanian in actual origin. At least it wasn’t all for the brand. You took a sip of the rum and turned back to lingering by the drinks. You’d already spoken to a few other shops, wondering just what people were intending to buy stock-wise. Most had no idea about pricing for now, but you assumed he would give deals where he saw it beneficial to. You tapped open your notes and made another point to argue with the location of your shop in Camden Town.

“Ah, the woman herself.” A voice rumbled from behind you.

With a steadying breath, you turned around to face the infamous owner of Dracula’s Blood, “Mister Székely, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” You offered your hand and smiled as kindly as you could after being startled.

Vladimir took your hand in his own and quickly pulled it upwards for a gentle kiss to the back, “The pleasure is all mine.” He smiled and offered his arm, “I have read a lot about your shop. Please, walk with me.”

With a curious look you wrapped an arm through his, “About my shop?”

He nodded with a hum, dark eyes watching you take a sip of rum, “Yes. You have won local awards.” He boasted with a flourish, “I was excited to meet you. To get my brand into such a shop would do wonders.” Vladimir turned by the garden and walked down the steps, “I understand you have online shoppers from across the United Kingdom, no?”

You nodded, “I do…I…” You laughed at his interest, “I’m surprised you have done so much research about me.”

Sharp white teeth were exposed in a smile as he look at his garden and the littering of glasses and people, “I like to know who I am going to sell to…It can tell you a lot about an individual, madame.” He offered as he moved your hand from his arm, “Perhaps we can talk more in a meeting? I am scheduling appointments.”

“I would like that.” You confirmed, “I’m interested in your product, that’s for sure.”

Dracula felt himself purr, “Delightful.”


	2. Chapter 2

Sleeping wasn’t exactly what Dracula did. He remembered sleeping. It was a warm embrace with something that proved restful and fulfilling. As the creature he was now, it was silent, a quiet rest with blackness yet no peace. He did not dream delights anymore, at least not like when he was human. The dreams were rarely joyous or fulfilling. As a young man he could remember waking with Elisabeta on his mind and the hardness between his legs. Those days were gone. The dreams of her he had now revolved around her death. A bloodied face haunted his memories along with the twisted nightmare of her burning away, her face rotting into the mud as she reached for him. In the nightmare he could never reach her before she dissolved into ash and smoke. Other dreams were of dying faces or fire on the battlefield. His nightmares haunted him often, but most of the time the daylight made his mind silent, his eyes closed but his brain aware of the passage of time as it slowly ticked by around him. This morning, however, his brain was rife with activity as he listened to the bin men take the household rubbish from his drive. The rubbish lorry thundered as it emptied the bins, men shouting before it moved on down the hill.

Dracula closed his eyes inside his resting place, pushing his fingers deeper into the soil from his homeland as he turned his chin upwards, towards the wooden floorboards over his head. The vampire gurgled, blood churning in the spittle of his throat as he found some respite from the noise in the world around him. This time, the dreams were odd. He felt the noise outside melt away as his chest froze, mouth open in pause as death held his muscles still and taut. As the world outside disappeared, a new one appeared before his eyes. He awoke with a gasp, the bright white light blinding to his eyes as he fell to his knees. The vampire gasped at the sunlight, covering his eyes with one hand, the other burying itself into the sand beneath him. Dust stained the knees of his dark trousers, his shirt billowing with the hot wind. He looked down at the sand through squinted eyes and held a handful of the pure white dust. Dark, curly hair obscured his view as the wind blew again, blowing the sand from his grasp as the heat burned every inch of his skin. It was oppressive. Dracula reached for his shirt and stumbled to his feet, only to realise that he was barefoot, his toes sinking in the hot, white sand as he took a step. It was like walking on hot coals, as he headed forwards, towards the searing sun.

Dracula watched as his skin blistered. There was no respite from the sun in the barren lands. He pulled himself on through the sand, as long as he could, before collapsing to his knees, breathing hard, panting for air he did not need in the bright white light. The sand stuck to his eyelashes and was gritty against his scalp as the wind whipped more of the white granules into his hair. With a snarl, he tugged his hair away from his face and peered back at the desert. Before him stood a woman clad in black silk. The dress billowed in a giant, night coloured wave, and floated above the sand with ethereal grace as she took a step towards him. A crown of sparkling gold sat on top of her head, yet her face was masked with a thick black veil. Nothing was visible except the outline of a nose. He peered at the figure and watched the crown, set with deep red rubies, sparkle brilliantly. Another step revealed a leg. His eyes caught the sight of naked skin and he reached a hand forwards in the white sand to snatch at it. A snaked hissed from underneath her dress. It’s pointed nose snapped towards him. It flickered a black tongue at his hand before it opened its mouth and hissed, spit clinging between huge fangs before it began its ascent upwards, curling in ribbons of green around the woman. Green scales glittered like jewels against the black silk as it weaved its way upwards, coiling around flesh tightly. It dipped around her waist and hissed again, laying its head on her shoulder. Lace covered fingers stroked at the head of the giant snake before it moved to rest its head in her crown, black eyes watching Dracula in the sand.

The faceless queen didn’t move. She stood, like a statue, stroking the green scales of her snake. In a sudden movement, she turned, silk billowing around her bare feet as she walked in the sand.

“Who are you?!” He howled into the dust as it blew, choking him and making him scrape at his eyes. She didn’t reply to him as he peered back at the blistering sun, protected from the heat in her shadow. He opened his red eyes, shaking in the sand as he blinked his vision clear. The snake dipped beneath her shoulder before he drew back in fear, watching as the sun was blocked, feathered shadows exploding from her figure. She turned again and stepped to the side, coiling her great snake around her arms as the shedding wings shuddered, feathers drifting down into the sand before the three pairs of grey wings spread wide over his body. They blocked the sun and shook once more before eyes opened behind curtains of feathers. The grey feathers parted as a myriad of rainbow eyes rolled in their sockets, gazing at him. The hunched figure hissed behind them.

“Not you.” He cursed as he pushed himself back in the sand, a great snarl escaping his lips, “What is the meaning of this? You cannot have me yet!”

The figure creaked as it stood before laying its hands on the Queen, clad in black. The snake struck at the bone hands, squeezing her neck in protective coils as the winged creature laughed, a hollow noise echoing off stone walls.

Bone hands stretched from tattered sleeves, wrapping around the woman, wings draping over her as Death teased the end of the veil. A million eyes peered at him from the darkness of the hood, twirling in their own orbits and shifting in the darkness before the creature pulled the veil upwards. Dracula flinched from the sight, his hand held up as he hid behind the curtain of his hair, staring back into the white dunes of sand.

“Look then, Dracul. Look, beast that defies Death, and see what I have offered.” Death’s voice came from behind his ears, a whisper on the sandy winds. The vampire turned his head slowly, not daring to peer at the image of the reaper before him. He avoided the thousands of eyes as he peered into the shadowed face. Darkness eclipsed them as he peered at what was behind the veil. His focus was drawn in as he pushed himself to his feet, hobbling to take her shoulders from Death’s grip. The veil rippled over his head, surrounding them as he looked into the nothing. As he shifted his gaze, he felt the jade snake wrap around his shoulders, binding them together with a snarl, fangs sinking into his arm as the darkness swirled and fangs snapped towards his own face from the void.

Dracula slammed his hands against the wooden floorboards in his shock, jolting awake, throwing soil over his mouth and chest as he beat the floorboards with a howl. Red eyes burned from the darkness as he took a gasping breath he didn’t need and looked around the hole he was in. He was alone. With a violent curse in Romanian he felt along the board and pushed it upwards enough to escape his hole, crawling from the dirty resting place. The dirt fell down his shirt as he peeled back the curtains to gaze outside. It was dark now, the sun having just set, the stars not yet twinkling in the sky. He was alone. Death’s words rang in his mind as he remembered the bloodied vampire fangs snapping towards his face and the snake’s paralysing bite in his arm. Black eyes and green scales flashed behind his eyes as he closed them, and with a growl, he threw the curtains back closed and turned to shed his comfortable sleeping clothes in favour or something more worthy of going out in. Death did not scare him, he told himself as he turned the shower on.

Not long after the party, and you were, once again, looking at the displays in the shop, wondering about the appointment you had arranged with Vladimir Székely. He’d sent an email the day after the party with times and dates he was available. Tomorrow was your meeting with the owner of Dracula’s Blood. The email was professional and concise, none of the flirtatious charm you’d seen at the party, but, you reasoned, that was exactly it. It was a professional meeting. Nothing more. You looked at the wine display and grumbled. It would have to do until you could get something more interesting for passers-by. Tourists would love something gimmicky. You had the London liquor display, but it was only so attractive next to the Italian wines. With a tap to your phone, you opened the online page you ran, looking through the small forum side as you set up an announcement about new stock.

The address lead to a small office block by the banks of the River Thames. The river, at least at this time of year, didn’t smell particularly foul. You looked at the building and back to your phone before walking into the small reception room. The elevator had the names of the assigned floors to businesses and you spotted Dracula’s Blood before moving into the lift and pressing the floor’s button. It was a quiet ride upwards, the sun beginning to set on the horizon as you stepped onto the floor now rented by Vladimir.

“Ah! Hello!” The secretary rushed over to greet you, her tablet clutched in her hand, her bright, red dyed hair bundled up in a fashionable bouffant, clipped and shined in perfection, “Welcome to Dracula’s Blood Offices. I’m Miss Westenra, Vladimir’s secretary.” She offered her hand for you to shake.

“It is lovely to meet you.” You offered a smile as you rearranged your coat and bag in your hand.

“He’s just finishing up a small appointment at the moment, but he won’t run too late, I assure you.” She walked you to a small waiting room where a coat hook sat, “I’ve let him know you’ve arrived. He’ll be through to collect you shortly.” Miss Westenra promised as you hung your coat and sat down in a chair, your bag sat in your lap.

Vladimir dismissed his appointment with a pinch to his nose, trying to soothe a phantom ache he knew he could not feel. His head pounded and he drew the blinds behind himself. The sun was beginning to irritate him. In the shadows of his office he soothed his head before rapping his fingers along his desk and standing, fixing his red tie before he dared to open the door.

“Ah, my friend.” He opened his arms in good nature, open and kind, before taking your hand, pressing a small kiss to the back of it before he drew back, “It feels like too long has passed. Welcome. Please, enter, enter.” He opened the door to his office, “Come freely. Go safely; and leave some of the happiness you bring.” The man joked as he let you pass him by, closing the door after you, “I apologise for the darkness,” Vladimir gestured to the blinds, “I’m suffering with a headache, you see. The light is not good for my eyes.” He pulled out the chair and smiled as you sat in it, pushing his dark hair from his shoulders before he sat himself down in his large, leather armchair.

“Thank you for offering me this appointment, Mister Székely.” You opened your bag to pull out your own notebook, your notes carefully written out of his sight-line.

“Please,” Vladimir smiled, sharp teeth on display in a billionaire smile, “Call me Vladimir.”

“Well, Vladimir, I’m still happy for this opportunity. As you know, I’m very interested in your products.”

Vladimir nodded and clicked a few things on his computer, the screens flashing bright. He reached to turn the brightness down on them before replying, “As am I. I believe that supplying your shop would do wonders for my business. Not only would it improve the accessibility, but it would support a local business. I like that idea.”

You watched his face for signs of a lie, “Would it now?” With a brief shuffle of your papers you moved to lay a price sheet over his side of the table, outlining the prices you had agreed with other companies similar to his own, “As you can tell, I’m open to discussion with pricing but…” You leaned towards the dark man, “I won’t be taken for a fool. I know what your product is worth, Vlad.”

Dracula felt his blood boil at the impudence, yet his gut twisted for another taste of the power in your eyes and to challenge it with his own, “You are a fine negotiator.” He observed the prices with a tip of his head, “Never before have I seen such…well, beneficial prices.”

“Well, I aim to impress.” You joked as you gently took the prices back from his manicured nails, “Even if you should be the one impressing me.”

A cascade of chuckles escaped Vladimir as he leaned back in his great office chair and looked at the screens before him. The vampire felt his gums burn behind the small smile he managed to curl onto his pale face. It was torture. His stomach churned and everything burned with the intense ache to feed. To consume the one thing that he knew he could. He watched your blood thump in your neck for a moment before he tapped his nails against the desk. One wave of taps turned into two, and then a third before Vladimir opened his palms to you.

“Then perhaps I can propose a favourable deal?” He reached for his own journals and pulled free a few sheets of paper, “I have prepared a couple of supplier contracts in advance with varying conditions of sale.” With a lick to his finger, he peeled the first offer free and waited, his others hidden behind his linked hands.

“I don’t believe I’m willing to offer shares in my shop, Mister Székely.” You placed the paper back on his side of the desk and smiled, “The option of my webstore, however, I am willing to negotiate that.”

Inside, the beast purred, watching as you took the bait for his little scheme. The monster purred deep in his chest, silent yet as he smiled with a human face, “I believe that is something I can arrange with you.”

A crate of every variety of brandy and rum, a casket of Vladimir’s suggested wine and a dedicated page on your website was not much of an asking for the price you’d been given. A lot of supply for now, and, in comparison, a small price tag attached. You looked at your signed contracts and traced the jittery cursive of his name.

“Get better soon, Mister Székely.” You offered back at the building before heading towards the underground.

Vladimir watched through the window as you left, his throat burning, before the sun was too oppressive, and the vampire recoiled back behind the blinds. In the shadows of his office, he touched his burning skin, yet felt only ice underneath his fingertips. He pushed a claw to the intercom.

“Miss Westenra.” He uttered behind sharpening teeth.

“Yes, Mister Székely?” She replied, her fingers moving across the keyboard at lightning speeds, the tapping echoing in the microphone.

“You are dismissed.” He let the intercom go silent.

“Goodnight then, Sir.” She said before moving to finish the last of his emails and leaving through the elevator. He listened to the clicking of her red heels grow quieter and sighed as he tore the shirt from his back, peering at his own skin as it grew paler and paler, leathery yet paper thin, cold, dead veins leering at him from his arms as he saw fit to toss his stack of papers to the floor. His hair dripped from his scalp in great swathes of brown as wings erupted from his back and his mouth tore at the seams. He lashed at the air before watching the area around the office blinds, waiting for darkness to eclipse the world outside. The nights sky eventually rolled over and the vampire snarled as he tore open the blinds and burst into the night air with a flap of his wings, fangs bared at the moon as hunger burned behind his tongue.

The bat like monster descended on the streets beneath an underpass, wings snapping before claws scraped along the tarmac, sending pebbles and dust flying as Dracula inhaled, smelling the retched air of London. Piss and stale, sour water. He peered at the bridge over his head and stalked towards the sour bodies laid, wrapped in thick blankets, shuddering against the cold and rain. Dracula grasped the two bodies from their sleeping bags and felt his jaw unhinge with a great howl at their faces. The man and the woman cowered before the woman reached to lash at his face. Her nails grazed his leathery skin but did no damage.

“What the fuck?!” The male screeched as he was released, scuttering backwards towards the wall of the bridge, stained with soot from pollution.

“Let go of me!” The woman shouted before Dracula’s sharp teeth peeled open her throat with a spray of blood. The spray speckled his cheeks as she gurgled, her hands falling limp over his shoulders before he turned on the male and snatched him from the pavement, fangs opening a great hole in his throat as he snarled and continued to drink his fill, smearing blood over his chin and cheeks. The blood tasted thin and weak, but two provided him with enough sustenance to replace the three days of starvation he had put himself through.

The cold bodies were great, dead weights under his arms as he carried them towards the woods around Buckingham’s Estate. Dracula flashed fangs at the sky before he dropped the bodies into the lake, watching them fall like sacks of potatoes before splashing in the water. The birds squawked awake, but he heard no other noise as he soared back into the sky and escaped beyond the clouds, the wind drying the blood that had congealed on his chest. The night was fresh and clean beyond the clouds, and Dracula breathed, a deep lungful of air he didn’t require. The night air gave him more than it could for any person. Smells of the city churned along his palette before the beast was drawn to other urges. A familiar smell. Burned spices and wooden crates. You. His burning eyes were turned in the darkness to the buildings below, and he swooped low with a snarl before bursting into a violent spray of mist. As a low fog, he trailed over the roofs of many homes, coiling over old pottery, and hanging guttering as he drifted his way downwards. The shop was beneath your apartment and the fog descended past the windows and towards the streetlamp. The black steel proved enough of a vantage point for him to watch from, fog coalescing into a heavy mist, red eyes leering from within the blackness as your body passed his gaze, and then back again, a black cat clutched in your arms as you span to a song he didn’t know.

The beast yowled, unfriendly and upset, until you released it to sit on the windowsill. The great black cat swished its tail before sitting, coiling the appendage around itself as it investigated the street below. Bright, smart yellow eyes looked at him, seeing his nature through the fog and darkness. With a smile from within the fog, he drifted down the lamppost and taunted the pet, stepping into the lamplight as a great hound, black fur bristling as it barked, a great thunderous noise from the tarmac. The cat yowled, claws against the glass as its own fur bristled, answering the cry as it danced back and forth against the windowpane. A consort of the devil. Cats were, in their nature, beasts of protection. Its protective gaze branded him with burning contempt and rage. You were that beast’s territory. It warded against the dark, as its kind had done since the burning of the witches in his own time. Dracula stepped back into the inky tarmac and melted into shadow as you reached for the spitting cat, peering into the gloom to try and see what had upset it so violently. His wolfish snout raised from the shadow before he bounded away from your little shop, howling at the moon, delighted in the prospect of discovering just what you were to him. 

“Come on, Drac.” You cooed at your bristled tom cat, “Something just feels off about tonight.” You snapped the window shut and ushered the cat inside before looking at the streetlamp with one last curious stare. Darkness and yellow light looked back. You shuddered at the howl of some giant dog and tutted as you sat back down in your small couch, fingers easing down Drac’s spikey fur.

_‘Two found dead in Buckingham Palace Gardens.’_

_‘Pound dogs driven insane. Outbreak of rabies with an unknown cause.’_

_‘Localised storm leaves Greenwich without power for five hours’_

You rolled your eyes and slapped the newspaper back against the countertop in your flat above the shop. The toast was suddenly unappealing as you caught a glimpse of the bodies pulled out of the lake and you finished the slice quickly before dusting crumbs from your fingers and standing to put the breakfast plate in the sink. You rinsed the crumbs away and grabbed a pouch of food for Drac.

“Yeah, I know you, greedy monster.” You laughed as you squeezed the packet of food into his bowl, leaving the cat in peace as you wrestled your keys from the door and locked up, phone and laptop in hand. You intended to hold up your end of the bargain with Vladimir Székely. Creating a page with his listed products and website links on your own shop page wouldn’t take too long and you didn’t expect a very busy day with the thundering rain jumping from the floor outside.

_‘Dracula’s Blood. Devilish brewing from the heart of Transylvania. This selection of rum, brandy and wines will have you looking over your shoulder at night! Grab your garlic and stakes!’_

The tag line was suitable, and you smiled behind your hot drink as rain continued to lash outside, the window thumping occasionally with the mix of rain and icy hail. With a hum, you looked at the delivered stock behind your counter and back at the listed products before finding the email links Vladimir’s secretary, Miss Westenra, had sent you. There was a link to a small website which could be used to order the products directly from Vladimir’s warehouses in Transylvania. From what you could tell he was in the process of setting up brewing and distribution centres in the United Kingdom to cater a bit more easily to certain demands. You clicked the ‘About’ page and scrolled a little bit before coming to a video titled ‘The Brewery Bowels’. Curious, you clicked play, and watched as the video loaded with rapt attention.

A dark room was shown by torchlight. The man was speaking in very fast Romanian, which was thankfully, translated, at the bottom of the video.

“This is where the rum and brandy are matured for a number of years in wooden, Transylvanian barrels.” He walked around the room, showcasing the cases of non-labelled rum and brandy before turning and patting the great stone tomb in the centre of the room. The stone thudded dully with the movement and the man continued to talk about the castle, “This is the great ruins of the legendary Castle Dracula, where the man or vampire was said to have live.” He announced before a great thunderous crash sounded behind them. The narrator and the cameraman shrieked in surprise before the lens focused on the tomb in the middle of the room. The stone had slid away. A clawed hand appeared from within the tomb, twisting and twitching as it reached for the side of the stone.

“Jesus Christ! Turn the camera off you fucking idiot!” A hiss sounded, “Run! Run you idiot!” A shadow darted from the tomb behind the narrator before a scream sounded and the camera fell into the mud. The recording buzzed with the broken noises of the camera. Bloodied feet walked past the lens before it was smashed with a great bang.

You frowned at the video before looking at the comments and other writing on the page. It was called a hoax and a cheesy branding gag. You had to agree with them all. It was still in poor taste either way, and you closed the video before moving back to the crates of alcohol you now had in stock. You looked at the window display and smiled as you set to work laying out the new, expensive bottles of Transylvanian liquor on the stands. You followed up with some shredded red paper around the small crate display and hung a bat from the ceiling before laying a prop blood bag over the top. It was almost Halloween anyway; it wouldn’t matter all that much. If anything, it would be one less thing to change when the holiday did roll around. Taking a step back, you admired your hard work and nodded at the new display of expensive alcohol with admiration. It wasn’t a bad job if you did say so yourself. With a sigh, you looked outside at the pouring rain and took your bits of left-over display supplies back to the counter, tucking them underneath in the basket before tidying up stray pieces of shredded paper.

A boom of thunder made you jump. You were placing the last of the stock into the cubby holes when the weather took an even worse turn. You touched the corks on the bottles before hearing a barking whine from outside the door. A great black dog smacked its mucky paw against the window. It was a huge thing, the paw the size of your own hand nearly. It whined and slapped at the door again, streaking mud down the glass. You watched it continue to bark and whine before giving in and rushing upstairs to get a towel for the creature. You returned and watched the beast eye you as you headed to the door. You pulled the heavy door open and watched the hound step inside cautiously, tail and body low to the ground. Black hair bristled before you shushed it and gently laid the towel over its back. It seemed okay with the towel and gently, you began to dry off its fur, rubbing in circles up and down the dog. It was more a wolf, you observed, looking at the size of it, the immense amount of thick, black fur and pointed ears. People had a habit of breeding wolves with dogs nowadays, you reasoned. You rubbed the beast’s tail and whipped back just in time to avoid a snap of teeth. It grumbled at the tug and licked its front teeth, brown eyes burning as you took the towel away and watched it sniff the floor.

“You can stop here, just until the rain stops.” You scolded. There hadn’t been many customers all day anyway, so it wasn’t like the rogue dog would be doing any harm. It ignored you and moved to lay in the window, fur billowing with the heater as it seemed content to lay and be quiet. You shook your head at the dog but moved to finish typing a few emails and taping packaging for orders. The wolfdog watched you with one eye open as you pottered about the shop, dark eyes trailing after you.

Dracula licked his wolfish teeth as you leaned over to pet his head, the sight of your neck making his gums burn with the urge for blood. He controlled himself as you laid some beef in front of him. He snubbed the food with a huff before crawling into your lap, his great head pressed into your stomach. The beast was satisfied when your hands brushed over his thick fur, grumbling happily, dark eyes closing with happiness at the attention.

“You’re like the Hound of Baskerville. A giant black wolf dog. I bet you go running around the countryside eating people, don’t you?” You joked as you smoothed your fingers through his dried fur, “Or maybe you’re just a stray?” He grumbled again at your words. The vampire liked the attention. His ego soared before he could control himself as he laid a lick on your hand, tasting sweat and flesh before he laid himself down again comfortably. He’d watched in the rain as you’d set up your display and a childish sense of possessiveness crossed him as he admired his product in your shop. Dracula snuffled at your stomach as he wondered just what about you was so intriguing to him. The power? The snark? Perhaps he was once again drawn to some odd semblance of his dead wife. He peered up and knew she was not you, just as Mina was not her. The vampire closed his eyes again and felt a serene peace wash over his mind. The warmth of your lap sent him off to sleep before he could even wonder why he was so tired.

The stray was gone when you came back from dinner. The towel you had used to dry the poor thing was also gone.

Sales both online and in person, of Dracula’s Blood, had gone immensely well. You smiled at the figures on your laptop as you totalled up sales for the month. It was an impressive reception for something so new. It was stylish, tasted good and reasonably priced enough for most people, who were interested in finer liquors, to give it a try. The bell chimed over the door and you smiled up from your laptop at the customer. The dark, tall man entered with a mild look around, before smiling at you. Vladimir Székely bowed his head at you, shaking his dark coat free of the rain after he closed the black umbrella. He was dressed in a simpler outfit than usual. He unbuttoned his coat to reaveal a simple white shirt and black, heavy jeans with heeled, Chelsea boots. His wet hair was tied back in a bun at the back of his neck, tucked underneath his upturned coat collar.

“Good afternoon.” He drawled before hooking his umbrella over his elbow. The wooden heels of his shoes clicked as he swooped towards the cash register.

“Good afternoon, Mister Székely.” You gave him a smile with a raised eyebrow, “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Vladimir smiled with thin lips, “I believe I said you could call me Vlad?” He shook his head with a chuckle, “I thought it prudent to pay my favourite client a little visit.” He gestured to the warm wooden structure of your shop, “And I wished to see your store for myself.”

The owner of Dracula’s Blood walked along the counter, black leather gloves dragging over the surface as he looked at the bottles, pretending he was seeing them for the first time as he headed towards the fresh displays you had set up with his products.

“You might appreciate the window a little more, I think.” You joked as you rested your elbows on the side and watched him walk over to the little hanging bat. The man laughed, a rich and deep noise, before he reached to flick the toy.

He ignored the blood bag and what it reminded of him, and turned back to you with a smile, his umbrella held tight in one hand, “I have to say, I am impressed, my dear.” Vladimir congratulated you as he eyed the drinks behind your head with calculating dark eyes.

“I can recommend you a good bottle of Italian red, if you want?” You turned and plucked the decently priced red wine from the cubby, offering it to him with a smile, “If you’re hosting someone special, I have a few that are a little more expensive.”

Vladimir smiled, gaze running over the neck of the bottle and ever upwards, over the lines of your torso, breast and neck- he drew his gaze away to your face and nodded, “Perhaps we could share one of those more expensive ones this next weekend?”

Your mouth opened like a fish, and the vampire felt joy in the ability to stun you to speechlessness.

“I can make a reservation?” He offered, “I have heard of these fancy Thai restaurants. I have never tried such food.”

You reached to take the wine back and shook your head, “I don’t think its very professional for me to consider this sort of thing, Vladimir. You are someone I technically work with.”

“Think nothing of it then. I simply wish to thank you for allowing my business to gain a foothold here. I promise, I bear no…lewd intentions.” The lies felt like honey in his mouth. He watched you consider before stroking the side of his dark facial hair with the back of his knuckles, “Perhaps my home would be a better venue? There none can see us.”

You held a more expensive bottle of wine and placed it on the side with a sigh.

He reached for your hand and squeezed the top of it with a flash of a white smile, “I swear to you. It will be purely work related if, that is what you desire?”

His words felt thick and heavy in your ears, yet you nodded once, to clear your head of them, and then again to consolidate the idea, “Fine then. If you can cook something amazing, then I’ll come and grace you with my presence.” You joked as you offered him the more expensive bottle of red, “I think this one is more worthy of such an occasion.”

Vladimir pulled free his bank card and smiled, “Then I will take it.”


	3. Chapter 3

A week. He had one week to discover how to consume human food. One week to try and be human. Vlad turned his gaze from the mirror and thrust the covering back over it, hiding the glass from his sight. He didn’t wish to see the smog covered beast he was underneath his trickery. The mirror shuddered under the sheet but didn’t crack. The vampire grazed his fingers along the moustache on his top lip and wondered just what this face looked like. True, he had seen photos of himself, slapped across most of his company’s websites, but it wasn’t the same. The image seemed foreign to him. A reflection of a face that wasn’t his own. At least, not anymore. He looked at the painting hung over his fireplace and dusted dirt from his shoulder as he gazed upwards, admiring the strong face he knew as his own. The sword he held in the painting was positioned below it, shined yet in need of another covering of oil and care. Gently, he took the great blade from the wall and swung it in an arc before rotating it over his hand and turning to thrust it at an invisible foe. His blood sang with the vibration of the blade through the air. Dracula took the blade to his desk and sat in the great chair, a cloth in hand as he pondered on what he could do to remedy the hole he had dug himself into.

The internet yielded no results. Therapy websites for eating disorders or calorie planning for dieting. It wasn’t the answer. A gastric bypass. Stomach removal. Eating with certain diseases. Intolerances. All the while, he shined the blade he had broken the cross with, looking down to avoid the sharpened edges. Dracula admired the blade in the light, satisfied with the shine as he leaned to look at his monitor. Nothing. Modern medicine had no answers. He grumbled as he stood from his chair and replaced the blade in its holder. It shone better in the light. Dracula moved back to his desk and rapped his nails along the wood in thought. Once, twice, and a third and final time as he pondered on what he could do to solve his issue. The only person he had ever encountered that knew anything about his curse was Professor Abraham Van Helsing, and that man had wanted him and his brood wiped out from history. He had, however, lived. His ancestors were somewhere out there. Out of curiosity, he put the name into his search engine and watched thousands of results come up. The name, however, was not common. Van Helsing was a small lineage even now, and he opened various social medias, looking for any relative that could be close. There had to be a remnant of the line somewhere in the UK. Abraham was a Professor in London.

There was a link, some way into the third page of results.

_‘Doctor disgraced. Drinking problems hit the highest mind in Pathology.’_

Dark eyes narrowed at the news article and the vampire opened it with interest, leaned back in his chair as he read. His eyebrows raised and a smile curled on his lips before he started to chuckle. A Van Helsing worked in London. Disgraced in medicine at the University College Hospital. A former teacher as well. With another click, he was searching for more. Profiles and odd links on profiles. Eventually, he gazed at her name with red, burning eyes.

_Dr Anne Van Helsing._

The vampire grinned, fangs sliding from his gums as he stood from his chair, huffing with beastly excitement as he rushed to get changed for the evening ahead.

Van Helsing blood was a stench he would never forget. The woman was easy enough to track down once he had looked up her address. She was still half practicing, apparently sober now for a year. He moved under the door of the shop as vapour, green and curling in on itself. Anne lived beneath the occult store, in the basement. Vlad assumed that she conversed with the owner and fed him information in exchange for a cheap rent. The alarm system blinked in the corner, the camera lens stagnant, watching. He moved up the wall and curled over the top of the camera. Electricity buzzed inside before it fried with a snap. The vampire moved under the door to the stairs and floated along the old wood, sensing his surroundings as he drifted lower and lower, along the old stairs and towards the smell of the vampire slayer he knew so well. The green smog slid through her door and coalesced into a rolling shape of a man.

The vampire hunter was laid in her armchair, snoring softly across from a buzzing television screen. It was a late-night reality show rerun. The smoke curled from his hands as they formed, and the vampire, rippling with vapour, curled his gloved hand over her head, watching and waiting for her to wake and grapple him for a fight. He hissed and waited. Slowly, he leaned down towards the woman’s greying blond hair and snarled. The scent of whiskey hit his nose. She was inebriated with alcohol. The vampire’s red eyes caught sight of the bottle in front of her on the coffee table. She wouldn’t be awake for a while. Vlad’s fingers recoiled as he turned on his heels and looked around her small, basement flat. The room was decorated with hard wood and mismatched old rugs. It was dusty yet lived in, like she forgot to clean. Dracula looked at the walls as a barely formed human figure of smoke, floating before he dispelled himself to look for anything he could use. The book. Van Helsing’s notebook. His mist curled around the rugs before coiling around the coffee table legs. There was a great welsh dresser, full of old pottery, the bottom lined with books, in the corner. He rushed towards it, sending a brisk breeze over Anne. The vampire formed in front of the books, a swirling storm of green mist. There was one book, the spine leather, old and self-bound. Misty fingers reached for the spine, tugging it free. The pages of the book fell open under a gale of wind and Dracula hissed from within the storm.

A burning sensation laced through the fog.

“Beast.” Anne slurred from her chair as she fumbled along her coffee table again, trying to find something among the papers. The burning emanated from where his flesh was ripped from the fog. A blessed blade seared in the dead flesh of his foot and Dracula howled, the walls shaking with the noise.

“Vampire slayer!” He snarled as he reached to drag the hilt of the dagger free, his thick, dead blood splattering along Anne’s wooden floor, “I should have ended your line when I had the chance!” He hissed in Romanian as his claws snatched the book, scarlet eyes burning in the black fog as he took three steps back, his floating hair already dissipating out of the window.

“You should be dead!” She slurred as she took the end of the holy blade in her hand and threw it towards him. This time he was ready, and the mist created a hole before swallowing in on itself and bursting up towards the window. Anne cursed as she tripped over the rug, left alone in her small basement as the creature escaped with the notes her ancestor had made when the beast was supposedly destroyed, so long ago.

“Shit.” Anne howled as she rushed to retrieve the holy dagger from her wall. She peered up at the clouded sky in her pyjamas, cursing violently as the vampire escaped. With a thump, she closed the window and reached for the whiskey she had left on the coffee table.

Back in his own home, Dracula peered at the book in his hands, nails trailing over the old cover. The woman in his lap whined, French manicured nails squeaking over the leather of his trousers. With a single finger under her chin, he tilted her head upwards, pulling her lips away from the inside of his thigh. She whined again, pressing herself against his cold skin, her mouth open and neck bleeding from the first bite. The girl was barely into her twenties, yet she was easy pickings, her brain was too addled with alcohol to resist the mild glamour he had applied. She’d even walked out of another man’s arms, just to crawl into his own. The book detailed many things. Autopsies on other vampires, creatures of his brood from when Abraham was young. He looked at their entries and peered at the drawings as the woman climbed into his lap again, pressing her nose under his chin. He petted the side of her cheek as he read the notes slowly, struggling to understand the medical terms.

_‘Dead insides. Heart was dead for longer than is conceivable. Putrefied organs. High salt content in tissue samples. Stomach empty of acid.’_

Nothing told him about how he could change these things.

_Subject: Dracula, former alias Vlad of the Order of the Dragon._

His own autopsy. It seemed Abraham had even analysed his corpse, drawing the body and decapitated head with gruesome detail. There was pages and pages of notes, but no answers. He read the final line with a sneer.

_‘Subject laid to rest by Mrs Harker. Tomb sealed before leaving.’_

Van Helsing had not expected his revival in any case. Dracula watched the woman in his lap go bleary eyed and whine once more. He took her by the hair and pushed the book onto his desk before exposing her neck and biting. Her cartilage crunched under his jaw and she shouted in pain before melting against his front. Two pints maximum. That was all he could take before she would be close to death. He counted the mouthfuls between hungry snarls before wrenching himself from her neck. Her eyelids closed as her breathing went shallow. The vampire released her head and wiped at his mouth, licking the blood from his fingers with another dark purr. Carefully he arranged her in his arms and stood with her. Dracula deposited her in the guest bedroom, slipping her clothes from her body before he looked at the holes in her neck and leaned down to lick them clean. They would be healed in a day, but he hid the area with bruises. She would believe something else entirely had happened.

He left her with a brunch bar and water on her bedside table. The vampire didn’t care about her so long as there wasn’t a trace of her by morning. It was smart not to kill at every chance he got. He closed the door and listened to the old chimes of the grandfather clock at the bottom of the stairs. It was into the early hours of the morning. He glanced at the smart phone in his hand and the time before heading back to his office and closing the book with a snap. He was dead. Putrefied inside. Salt and dead flesh. He opened the drawer of his desk and chucked the book inside it, kicking it shut with his foot as he looked out of the window. A lone cat strayed across his lawn, tail curled in the air before it sat in the grass and looked at him. He hissed around it, voice echoing in the darkness as the cat hissed back at the window. Dracula spat, thumping at the window, fangs slick with spit and blood. The cat watched him, bristling, but ran from his lawn, down the drive and towards the main road. Dracula watched it leave before closing the curtains and going back to his computer. He slumped back in the chair before opening recipes for the coming date he had planned. Perhaps something raw?

You knocked on the door of Vladimir’s home, running your hands over your outfit worriedly. Why you were worried, you didn’t know. This was professional. You reminded yourself of that as the man answered the door with a smile, his pale face looking out from an inside lit up by soft, warm white light. There were candles in great, intricate candelabras, burning in the entry hall.

“Welcome to my home.” Vladimir pulled open the door wide to reveal the inside of his home and himself. He was dressed smartly, a silver suit lined with blue, his hair down, resting on his wide shoulders.

“I thought this was just a professional affair, Vlad.” You moved into the threshold with a shake of your head at the elaborate setting of his home. The door clicked shut behind you, and Vladimir chuckled at your concern.

He slid your coat from your shoulders gently, “I am a host before everything, my dear. My home is my pride. I enjoy impressing.”

You watched him hang your coat on the hook, “You mean you enjoy gloating and showing off.” You snarked with a smile as Vlad pressed a gentle hand to your back, steering you towards the dining room.

“Something of that ilk, yes.” Vlad opened the door to the dining room and your mouth opened in awe at the warm candlelight from the extravagant candlestick in the middle of the old wooden table. That, itself, was shone to perfection with wax. The cutlery was laid out perfectly alongside the placemats and even the tablecloth was ironed. It was perfect.

“Something tells me this really isn’t just a work catchup, Vladimir.” You looked down at yourself and took a deep breath, “I feel like this is crossing a line that…”

His hands wrapped around your bare shoulders, squeezing, comforting as he hushed you, “Perhaps I have…interest in you, yes, but it is a desire to know more about you. I hold no lecherous desires. I have no ill intentions. I only wish to know you.” He moved around to face you, “I promise you.”

Something about his voice was soothing as he held onto your shoulders, his dark eyes bright with happiness.

Carefully, you plucked Vladimir’s hands from your shoulders, “Fine. I’ll accept it, for now.” You pointed to the table, “And because I’m guessing you have an insane spread planned for this evening.”

Vladimir’s fingers curled back into his palms before he pulled you a chair out at the table, “Oh it is a spectacular menu.” He purred as you sat yourself at the circular table. It was made for two people to dine at. Intimate and close among other things. The rest of the dinning room was cleared, the normal, full length table, pushed to the side at the back, and the chairs stacked out of sight underneath sheets.

“So, what’s for dinner then?” You asked as you watched Vladimir pour you a drink of the red wine he purchased from your shop. He avoided his own glass and sat down across from you, “You don’t drink?”

Vladimir shook his head, his dark hair flopping over his shoulders, “No. I do not drink. It does not sit well.” He patted his tummy before gesturing in the air with a smile, “Drink. Be merry. I will see to dinner. Or, well, the staff will.” A waiter waved from the doorway, the towel over his arm wafting as he disappeared back into the other room, towards the kitchen.

“You really hired staff for one night?” You asked, laughing at the absurdity of it all, “Are you wanting to flash your cash and win me over, Mister Székely?”

Vladimir hummed, “Hardly. I don’t need to announce my wealth to you. If anything, that will make you less likely to entertain my advances.” He explained.

Taking a sip of your drink, you looked at him over the glass, “And you think you’ve figured out how to win me over?”

Vladimir rolled his shoulders, “I have no idea how, my dear.” He confessed as the waiter returned with a large silver platter, rested on one hand, “Ah, dinner is served.” He clapped his hands excitedly as the waiter laid a starter before the two of you.

The starter was delicious, the food of a quality you hadn’t tasted in a long time, not since your last expensive birthday get together. You pushed the plate forwards a little with a sigh of content.

Vladimir had poked at his food, eating just over half.

“That was delicious…Aren’t you hungry?” You pointed a finger at his plate, “Maybe you picked the wrong chef?” You teased as he placed his fork and knife in the middle of the plate.

Vladimir smiled cryptically, “It is very rich. My stomach is not good at coping with such things.” He waved his hand, “I have been this way since I was a child.”

“Ah.” You nodded, “I’m sorry for making fun.”

“You have nothing to apologise for. I have taken no offence.” He was quiet as the waiter took the plates away from you both after refilling your wine.

After a moment, you took a sip of your drink and changed the conversation, “So, Vlad, where do you come from? You didn’t give that information on your website.”

Dracula felt a sense of déjà vu at the question. Time seemed to shift as he saw Mina sitting before him, laughing and perched like a lady on the edge of her chair. It came and went. He smiled at the memory of it before clearing his throat.

Vladimir spread his hands, “I come from a town, deep in the Carpathian Mountains. It was once a stronghold during the fight against the Persians, many years ago. There are legends, that beyond the forest and in the mountains, that a secret order was housed. Dracula, Vlad Tepes, or whatever they call him, he was part of this order to defend the church against the onslaught. A knight of the Order of Dracul.” He noticed your confusion, “The Order of the Dragon, in English. My hometown was bred on the legends, so here I am, feeding the West them as well.” He chuckled before fixing you with a heavy gaze.

“So, you’re from where he originally lived?” You asked curiously.

“Ah, no, but nearby. Close enough for the legends to be very relevant…” He made a cross with his fingers, “And for the locals to be very superstitious.” He laughed again before you frowned, and his laughter died away.

“Is it pretty?” You asked as you took another drink, “Aren’t the mountains some of the only untouched lands in Europe?”

“Yes. The woods are fresh with clean air, expansive and wide. There is a river. A great one. In English it is called, River Princess, or the Princess River. The tears of a beautiful princess filled it from bank to bank.” His fingers trailed along the wood, “Or so the stories go.”

“I think it would be hard to cry that much…” You smiled behind your glass, “But those are wonderful stories. I would love to hear more.”

The beast inside whined at the pain as he began to tell the story of the knight and his princess, the food rotting his insides.

“Thank you for having me this evening.” You paused at the doorstep to his home, watching the man smile from inside, still looking you in the eye, “I…I was sceptical, but I enjoyed it immensely.”

“I am glad.” Vladimir drawled, “I would like to do this again, if I have not scared you away?” He asked as he took your hand, placing a kiss on the back of it.

Gently, you took your hand back and smiled, “I would love to.” You took out your phone and snatched his from his fancy trousers, unlocking it before you tapped your phone number into his contacts, “So we can arrange another.” You offered before hearing the toot of the taxi’s horn, “Goodbye, Vladimir. Have a good night.”

He caught your wrist before you could escape and leaned forwards. Your breath caught in expectation of a kiss. It never came, but he pressed his lips to the inside of your wrist.

“Good evening. Sleep well.” He whispered before he released you to your taxi. You touched the spot on your wrist as you waked down the drive. The door to his home closed behind you as you made it to the car, and you gave one last look at the house before ducking inside the taxi and telling the driver your home address.

Agony. The beast howled inside but he didn’t make a noise. Dracula’s mouth hung open, spittle clinging between vicious, giant fangs, as he clawed at his stomach. His eyes bled to red, black pupils going wide as he hid his face, dismissing the staff, bidding them to leave as he crawled upstairs to his bedroom. The wooden door shuck as he slammed it closed, dragging his clothes free in pain as his stomach muscles seared. Desperately, he pushed his fingers into his mouth to silence his own agony as he fitted on the floor, his muscles burning as claws ripped from his feet and scratched great lines in his floor. Fur rippled over his back as everything clenched in burning ripples of pain. Dracula heard the door close with a scared ‘good night’. He listened to the staff walk down the drive before he began to howl. Pain seared up his stomach as he morphed into a wolfish beast, snarling and spitting against the wood. The vampire limped to his window, unlocking it before he pulled himself out, his head twisting as he looked up at the moon. Pain curled in his guts again as he managed to jump from the window and to the floor. Dracula landed in the grass with an ungraceful thud. Snarling, and starving, the vampire pulled himself up enough to move, crawling towards the little piece of woodlands that separated his home from the park.

The University College Hospital was bright with the activity of Doctors and patients. Dracula didn’t see nor hear the bustling activity as he snarled in the back of the hospital, his fangs embedded in a young nurse. She’d been out on her break, eating a sandwich with her headphones stuffed in her ears. The vampire grasped her in the bushes, swallowing mouthful after mouthful of blood to no avail. His insides still churned and seared with pain with the meal. It was agony. Like being stabbed with holy blades. The red-hot knife twisted in his guts as he dropped the woman. The burning need to drink continued to cripple his throat. Dragging himself along the grass he felt the blood drip past his lips before his stomach lurched and the blood came back up in a spray of curdled red goo. The grass hung under the weight of the blood and Dracula writhed for a moment. He was blinded by his pain.

“Jesus Christ.” A man walked closer with a cigarette hanging from his lips, “I’m…Doctor Seward. Are you quite alright?” A young doctor approached him with a pale face, looking at the gore with horror in his eyes.

Dracula felt a ripple of familiarity about the man as he gazed at the black hair and narrow face, “Van Helsing.” He growled as he forced himself to appear human in the man’s eyes, slicing his own stomach with his nails before the doctor could see.

“My God. Of course, this has something to do with that blasted woman.” Dr Seward looked at his stomach before Dracula snatched his cheeks in his hand, “Calm down. I’ll…”

The vampire pressed his fingers to the man’s cheek bones and watched him grow complacent, his eyes unfocused as he gazed into the red eyes of Dracula.

“Take me to Van Helsing.” He commanded.

Dr Seward’s eyes went cloudy as he nodded and awkwardly helped the vampire to his feet, taking a lot of his weight. No one came close to the wolf man and the doctor as he helped Dracula along the road around the back of the hospital, towards a huge set of iron doors, angled into the ground, leading to a basement underneath the hospital. Dr Seward pulled a ring of keys from his belt, finding the one to unlock the shutter doors before he threw them open. He shouldered Dracula’s weight once more as they shakily descended into the basement. The air grew colder and staler as they reached the bottom of the concrete stairs. Seward left him propped against the sterile wall as he rushed to close and lock the doors again behind them. Dracula took a breath of air, rolling the smell of death over his palette as Seward returned and began to drag him down the hallway. They passed three rooms labelled with ‘cold storage’ and the vampire spewed blood from his mouth again, spraying the concrete floor with goo as Seward dragged him towards a room that stank of congealed blood and bleach.

“Anne!” Seward shouted as he opened the door, still in a haze, “He asked for you.”

Anne Van Helsing looked up from her work on the corpse with a shocked face, her greying hair in a frizz around her head as she dropped her glasses from her nose in shock, “Jesus Christ, Seward!” She cursed as he dropped the vampire to the floor. Her bright, intense eyes looked at the wolfish vampire in his grasp.

“Do not see me.” He hissed and Seward’s face melted into confusion before he walked, like a zombie, to the door, and disappeared down the hallway towards the hospital. Dracula felt her gaze grow cold as he fought to pull himself up, using the metal table as a prop to keep himself upright.

Anne pulled a blade from her leg, “Tell me why I shouldn’t fucking kill you now.” She spat as she held the blade towards him.

The vampire looked at her, his eyes rolling as he smelt the air. She was stone cold sober, her hands shaking around the blade with withdrawal.

“Your grandfather tried it, Van Helsing, and look what it did to me.” He hissed, claws slamming through the metal of the table as the vampire killer held her blade to his chest, “I lived. My head was severed yet I remain…undead.” He wrenched his fingers from the metal and watched her. She levelled the vampire with a stare, “Would you not like to understand, Anne? Would you not like to understand the secrets of the dark?”

Anne took the blade from his chest, “You are vermin.” She conceded as she tucked the blade into her boot again, “I will find a way to kill you, Dracula.”

“You can try, Van Helsing.” He hissed as he crawled up the table, “But I will gut you like I should have done Abraham.”

“You’re in no state to do anything.” Anne pulled him up on the table, gloves slick with blood as she wrestled him upright and reached for a bottle of heavy syrup. It smelt foul. The vampire retched as it was brought towards him. Anne wrestled him backwards , snapping a scalpel through his hand to hold him still and she held his maw open and poured the thick syrup into his mouth, “Ipecac syrup works on animals, so it should work on you. You’ll be vomiting for a long time.” She pressed his mouth closed under his chin and pushed hard against his head to keep him from spitting anything out.

“What is that…” The vampire gipped, “Poison…”

“In about…” Anne looked at her watch under her glove with a mild amount of interest, “Twenty minutes, you’ll be vomiting your guts up... Figuratively that is.” She sat back in her stool and watched spit drip uncontrollably from his mouth as he flipped onto his stomach and wretched, his abdomen clenching and rippling as the vampire heaved, “I find it surprising that this works on vampires.” She observed as he heaved uncontrollably on the body table. The Van Helsing woman began to count as the vampire heaved and gagged, the noise growing more intense until he finally gave in and spewed out a great gush of red and black. Anne stepped back as he sprayed the table and floor with blood, and continued into another burst of thick, black sludge like vomit. She covered her nose as a thick, mucus membrane slipped past his teeth and onto the floor.

“Fucking hell.” Anne whistled as she walked over to the vampire, a pair of tweezers in hand, “I didn’t expect you to actually…throw up your stomach lining.” She plucked the mucus from the mess of black goo and blood curiously before looking at the vampire.

“Vile woman.” Dracula spat as he wrenched himself from the floor, “Cursed line of…” He collapsed against the table with a bubble of blood in his mouth.

“Cursed line of god worshippers? Please, vampire, I’ve heard it before.” Anne moved away from him, leaving him heaving on the table as she went to collect something. She returned a few minutes later with a bag of red liquid in her hand, “Blood.” She tossed it onto the table, barely defrosted and cold, “You need it.” She tossed another on top of it, “For good measure.”

Dracula looked at the blood next to his head with red eyes, “Foul.” He commented.

Anne rolled her eyes, “Six hundred years old and you’re still a baby.” She walked over, her glasses perched on the end of her nose and stuck a bloodied scalpel into the edge of each.

The beast snarled before pushing the plastic edges into his mouth and drinking, gulping the bags with gusto as Anne watched him.

“You are a monster, Count Dracula…” She flipped the table he was laid on as his eyelids grew heavy, pushing him towards the wall, the dry blood bags falling from his lips with the movement, “It’s time you started acting like it. Nothing can reverse damnation. I suggest you remember that when you tear her from her life, just like all your other victims.” Anne leaned over the vampire with a dark look.

Dracula snarled and banged at the table as she turned her hip and slammed the trolley into the cold locker. The vampire felt his eyelids grow heavy as he howled at her worlds, the will to fight leaving his body as the cold set into his dead flesh.

Anne looked at the cold locker as she pulled the gloves from her hands, binning them before washing her hands and finding the packet of cigarettes Seward had dropped on his way out. She walked towards the lift and pulled a cigarette free with three nervous taps to the packet. When she reached the smoking area she dared to exhale, her hands shaking as she wished for the whiskey bottle to take the edge off.

The plush fur of a bear was soft underneath his feet as he dragged the body behind him. The woman screamed as he pulled her by her hair, crying to God, begging to be released instead of being killed. He couldn’t particularly hear her cries as he crawled along the stone, looking around his own castle, heading towards the great cross. The cross was rotting, the metal rusted and the gash still bleeding drips of blood. The woman. The faceless woman was sat underneath it, her lace covered fingers moving up to caress the hole, blood dripping down her wrists. He drew himself up onto two legs before speaking.

“I have brought you food.” His mouth was not his own as he wrenched the young girl forwards. Listening to her cries, she turned to look at the human. She descended the two steps in a roll of silk and came close to him before her veiled face turned to the girl. Bloodied, lace covered fingers moved to snatch her by her cheeks, stopping her noise before the veil shimmered. She reached to pull the bottom upwards and Dracula felt his chest heave in expectation. A mouth appeared but she tucked the lacing tight behind her head, hiding the rest of her features as a mouth full of fangs opened in her face.

The girl screamed as the faceless woman tore into her neck, gulping blood before reaching for his own face, tugging his wolfish snout down before she kissed him, blood pouring past his own lips. Dracula felt himself snarl with excitement, claws dragging over the silk, tugging, and tearing but getting nowhere through the fabric. She continued to feed before offering him another, bloody, kiss. Dracula raked his own claws over the girl’s throat and watched her gag as blood spurted from her. He dropped the body to the floor and pulled the faceless phantom forwards by her hips. Blood squelched under his feet before he was pushed onto his back, the black silk following him as the green snake hissed behind her, dipping from under her skirts to eye him with one, black eye. He felt his blood sing as she mounted his hips, teeth snapping as he dragged at the black silk again, revealing no skin to himself even as he tried to pull it upwards. His own fangs grazed her throat before the snake hissed and snapped around his neck, pulling its coils tight. Bones creaked in his neck as the phantom over him leaned down to lick along his furry chest.

“Please.” He begged before the snake struck, fangs digging deep into his dead flesh. The beast howled, the stone shaking, as he felt his legs go numb. Her face disappeared as soon as she tore the veil free.

The vampire awoke with a snarl, claws snapping forwards to snatch at the veil that was no longer there. His legs ached, and so did the throbbing erection between them. Huffing, he managed to open his eyes enough to watch icy air curl around him.

“Van Helsing.” He hissed as he pulled himself up, shaking ice from the fur on his shoulders and back, cracking the bones as he attempted to shift back. He was still too weak, and the vampire collapsed from the table with a grunt.

“What the fuck…What the fuck?” A worried man whittled outside before the key clunked in the door. The vampire slinked back towards the shadows as the door opened, “Where the fuck did the body go?” He reached to tug at his hair as he spotted the empty blood bags on the floor, “Jesus Christ someone’s stolen it.” He panicked until the vampire launched himself from the shadows, fangs tearing open the man’s throat. Dracula gave a great hiss of relief as the hot blood poured into his icy gullet.

He made sure to leave a mess for Van Helsing to clear up before he smashed his way out of the basement and into the new evening.


	4. Chapter 4

The vampire felt a tiredness seep into his very core. His rest in the icy cold storage had made him lethargic and slow. He eased himself upwards, standing on two legs out in the grass of the hospital gardens, wobbling on his legs a little. The night air was cool, but not as cold as the locker had been on his dead flesh. There wasn’t a soul in sight as he peered around, red eyes burning against the dark. Dracula felt his cold flesh regain a bit of movement. He was lethargic as he took a few steps forward, heading towards the fences where the hole he had entered through remained. Thankfully, there was no one to witness the naked form of a man rushing through the gardens, and the vampire turned his gaze to the moon before shifting into a wolf and rushing through the metal wire fencing and into the streets. He raised his black nose and sniffed at the air, remembering where his closest apartment was in a flood of pictures, turns and jumps towards the property. The beast howled before it took off, pink tongue hanging between sharp teeth as it bolted through the streets of inner London. The night air was cool against his black coat as he ran.

The apartment block was quiet, and he awkwardly stumbled in through the window before regaining a semblance of grace, snarling as he shed fur and sniffed at the air. There wasn’t anyone here, and the cleaning lady had been recently. Lemony scents clung to the floor as he moved through the apartment, bare feet dragging along the carpets and slapping against the stone floor of the kitchen. He turned on a light, and squinted at the brightness, before turning it off again and heading towards the small bedroom. There was a wardrobe with some clothes he had stashed in case of an emergency. The vampire drew out a shirt and a pair of trousers, forgoing underwear in favour of collecting a pair of boots and heading to bathroom. The water was cold, but he showered quickly, scrubbing the clotted blood from his mouth, chin, neck and chest. He turned his hands under the spray and gouged at the blood beneath his nails before daring to run his hair under the spray. Pink water circled down the drain as he scrubbed his hair with whatever shampoo had been left. The smell of roses clung to his nostrils as he washed and washed, removing as much of the evidence of his murder as he could manage.

Dracula dressed slowly, twisting, as if unused to the human skin covering him as the shirt clung to him tightly, the material feeling claustrophobic against his skin. He towel-dried his hair and hissed at the mirror, watching the glass erupt into shards with his cursed gaze, the reflections of shadows and bones shattering before he could really catch a glimpse of it.

“The vanity of man.” He grumbled as he rubbed a hand over his styled facial hair. His form was still the same, not a hair had grown nor a freckle on his face. The same. Cold and dead but changeable, malleable to his own and other’s desires. With a deep breath, he stood and tied his hair back, before heading to the door, snatching a coat off the hook as he headed back into the dark London streets, intending on getting home with another meal in his dead stomach. As he took a deep lungful of air, he scented a cut on the wind, and headed towards the scent with a deceitful smile on his face.

His home was dark as he arrived back, feeling energized yet ready for the rest of the night in his bed of foul earth. He’d had a little bit too much of an adventure over the past couple of days. He was becoming an old vampire with the taste for the sedentary luxuries of wealth. Striding up the drive, he came to a halt as he spotted a black cat splayed across his doorstep, its thick tail flicking with irritation as he approached. The cat hissed, claws flashing as his shadowed form loomed ever closer, flickering and spitting back at the beast.

“I will have her.” He promised in heavy Romanian, amidst the fog of his own form, “Whether you want me to or not.” The words echoed around him as he watched the beast snarl at him again, claws scratching his leg through his trousers, opening three tiny wounds which sealed as soon as they opened. The black cat bounded from his doorstep, fluffy with anger as it leaped into the bushes and disappeared into the street, yowling as it went. Dracula watched with a smile before a leaned over into his front lawn and clicked on the cat repellent machine, grinning as the awful noise warded off another beast that was hiding in his bushes.

It had been three days since you sent the restocking email to Vladimir, and you’d yet to have a reply. A text message was still sat unread but received and you were beginning to wonder if you had stepped over an invisible line.

“Maybe he’s not interested, Drac?” You cooed as your black cat wandered around the shop, purring against your legs before he jumped onto your serving counter and chirped for your attention. You ran your hand over his thick, black fur and smiled at your cat as you messed with the fur on his neck. A sharp tone rang through the shop. Your phone blinked awake as you received a text message. His name was across your screen.

_‘I apologise for my absence. I had to attend a business meeting in Romania. I only just got back. Forgive me, for I did not mean to make it seem like I was ignoring you. I look forwards to seeing you again soon.’_

Another notification chirped before appearing on your screen. The invoices for the next order and the scheduled payment date. You smiled at the text message and replied as Drac attempted to bat the top of your phone.

_‘Don’t worry about it. See you soon.’_

He read the message as soon as you sent it, the bubble indicating he was typing a reply.

_‘Shall I see you at my home again this weekend? I found an interesting selection of English movies I have never seen in Romania.’_

With a smile you sent him a small bat emoji and a time for the date before he replied with how he was going to bed, claiming to be tired from the flights and work he’d been dragged into. Drac successfully hit the phone onto the counter with a yowl, his tail swishing back and forth over the wood until you relented, laughing as your cat pushed himself into your arms and purred, a sandpaper tongue licking underneath your chin as he enjoyed your sole love and affection.

Your movie night was cut short with your own business. Vladimir hadn’t been too upset with the disruption to your plans together but did pop in to see you in the shop. He’d even gone as far as to offer his help dressing the place for the wine tasting you had booked, grinning and joking about his own brands that were laid on the table for the guests to give a try. You’d enjoyed his presence, the man helping to calm your nerves with soft gestures and consoling words.

“You have nothing to be nervous about, my dear. The shop is dressed to perfection and the wines are delectable. You will do fine.” You could remember the ghost of a kiss on your cheek before he left you in peace to host the evening, his coat fluttering as he disappeared past the glass front windows of the shop and down into the dark street. It had been a success, and many people had complimented the low lights and fine decorations. When you thanked him, he was nothing but kind, turning the success around, pinning it on your own abilities.

The supermarket was dead this time of night. You scowled at the tins of tomatoes and beans on the shelf, looking for the usual deal with a huff of hot air between your lips. The deal was on another brand this week, and you shrugged as you threw four tins of tomatoes into your trolley and ticked your list on the scrap of notebook paper clutched in your hand. You still had quite a few things to collect. You peered at the list as you walked up the aisle. You trolley collided with another with a metallic bang.

“I’m so sorry!” You rushed to apologise to the other person before gazing upon the tall stature of a familiar man, “Vladimir? I didn’t expect to run into you!” You laughed as he tipped his head at you, clutching his own list of shopping in his hand.

“I too did not expect to see you here.” He chuckled before holding his list up, “I decided to come and collect the ingredients for my next dinner event.” The man tucked his trolley to the side of the aisle, pressed against your own, to give other shoppers room to pass, “Are you here doing your…how do you say it here? Weekly shop?” He offered, his accent thick and heavy as he rushed to think of the words.

With a nod you laughed, holding up your own list, “I’m here doing my weekly shop, yeah. I was running out of cat food, so I figured I should come before Drac kills me in my sleep and eats me instead.” You joked.

Vladimir gave a thin smile, “Cats are such mean beasts.” He offered, “I did not know you had one. What was its name again? Drac? Is it short for Dracula, perhaps?” He joked.

Embarrassment coloured your cheeks, “Ah yeah, it is. He’s so big and scary so I just named him that when I picked him up from the rescue woman. He used to bring me all sorts of bleeding things, so the name just stuck with him.” You explained before tapping your trolley handles, “Do you want to walk together? I can help you find the things you have left, if you want?” You offered.

Vladimir smiled, “But of course. I am a little lost, I must confess.” He admitted before offering you his list, “I do not know where the meat counter is.”

“Oh, all this is on my route around anyway! I’ll show you.” You smiled up at Vladimir before waving for him to follow you, “The meat counter is just up here, but I think this cut of beef will be expensive.” You offered him his list back.

“Money is no problem. I must impress these men. They are part of the chain I would like for my warehousing here.” He confessed as you both approached the small butchers counter.

“Well then we best get you the finest we can find!” You joked as Vladimir turned to take his meat from the butcher on duty.

“Only the finest, indeed.”

Your trip around the shop was brief, or it seemed very brief as you both laughed and talked about what had happened since his impromptu trip abroad.

“I heard Miss Westenra is engaged?” You asked, “Harker told me the last time he was in the shop buying that wine he likes to impress with.” You rolled your eyes at your friend before smiling at Vladimir.

He nodded, “She and a man named Doctor Harvey Seward are to be married. Apparently, his family are all Doctors, and have been since the Victorian era of this country. I hope the marriage is favourable.” Vladimir stopped at the end of the aisle and smiled, “I think I am finished shopping, my dear, but this has been wonderful.” He took one of your hands in his own and placed a kiss on the back of it, “Will I see you this weekend?” He asked as you looked into his dark eyes, admiring the way his long, dark hair framed his face.

“How about we have coffee in the square by the shop?” You whispered as he drew close.

“Nothing would make me happier.” He whisked himself away with a grin and a flip of his coat, and you were left holding the pack of toilet rolls, flustered and hot to the touch.

When you got home you found a bunch of black roses tucked on the doorstep of your shop. You picked them up and admired the deep, scarlet ribbon that was wrapped around them, styled into a beautiful bow. There was a tag attached with a small note.

_‘I hope we can spend more time together- Vlad’_

You took them inside with a smile, unaware of the red eyes and fanged grin watching you from the mist curling in the shadows across the street.

The vampire watched as you entered the book shop across the square. The café inside the book shop was where he was supposed to meet you. He looked into the window as you passed them by, smiling to the clerk before you headed into the back through the aisles. Curiously, the vampire followed, ducking through the crowd as he entered the shop and smiled as the cashier with a wave of his hand. She smiled back pleasantly at him and continued to price the books stacked on the counter. He followed the route you had taken into the back of the shop and paused in the entrance to an aisle as you passed around the end aisle with a heavy looking book in hand. Dracula smiled as he watched you, ducking into the next aisle to watch again before he looked at the metal watch on his wrist and peered at the time. It was still early. He too, had some time to look around and pick up something to read. With a graceful spin, he headed towards the world books and peered at the titles, wondering if there was something in his own language that he would be able to read properly.

“Vladimir?” You asked as you turned the corner in the bookstore, gazing up at the man curiously, “I didn’t expect to see you in here just yet. With a smile, you tucked the book under your arm and looked up at the ‘around the world’ section.

Vladimir jumped at your interruption, smiling as quickly as he could as he held up a selection of a couple of books. They were all rather heavy looking reading. He offered you a smile, “I was looking for something to read in my home language.” He looked embarrassed, awkwardly rubbing at the back of his neck, tucking a few stray hands of his dark hair back into his bun after the motion.

“I thought you could read in English?” You asked, confused.

Vladimir smiled before tapping the cover of a novel that was in Hungarian, then another that was in Romanian, “I can read English, but the meanings of many words and phrases escape me in it. My home languages are much easier to comprehend.” He confessed.

You looked at the adaptations of old horrors before tapping the front of your own book, “Maybe I can help? I know you find it easier to read in your mother tongues but maybe if we read together you can get better at understanding certain words?”

Vladimir considered your offer for a moment, dancing from hip to hip before he hummed, “This was not the ideal coffee date I had in mind.” He joked as he plucked another Romanian book from the shelf.

“You don’t have to be embarrassed about it.” You soothed with a hand on his shoulder, “I’ll happily sit and read with you…It…” You tucked your book higher, “It actually sounds like a nice time.”

The vampire felt his chest ache as you smiled, face red from the cold outside.

Vladimir smiled back at you and tipped his chin, “You have convinced me. I will read and you will instruct.” He offered you his arm as you both headed to pay for the books in your hands. As you reached the register he plucked the short stories from your hands and smiled deviously, “I insist.”

You reached to take it back, “You don’t have to do that! I can afford it, you know.”

Vladimir shook his head, his gloved hand raised to silence your protests, “Think of it as payment for your instruction.”

“Thank you.” You relented and smiled warmly. Vladimir returned the gesture by reaching for your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. The lady at the register took the total from his card and packaged the books before ushering you both on your way. With your book in hand you headed upstairs to the café, Vladimir following close at your heels.

The smell of black coffee was somewhat calming as you sat by the window and watched the British rain fall in violent sheets. It didn’t seem to want to calm so you and Vladimir had ordered a second coffee each to pass the time a little more, hoping to not have to run out in it. You listened to him read, your head rested in your palm as you listened to him read softly across from you.

“The subway train lost its life current between two stations and for a quarter of an hour they could hear nothing but the dutiful beating of their hearts and the rustling of newspapers. The bus they had to take next was late and kept them waiting a long time on a street corner, and when it did come, it was crammed with garr…” Vladimir scowled at the word in the book before spinning it to you, pointing at the word in the middle of the page.

You leaned forwards, hot coffee clasped between your hands, “Garrulous.” You smiled at his confusion, “It means, chatty or talking excessively about something trivial.”

Vladimir nodded, rolling the word around his mouth as he repeated it back to you and then himself. He turned the book back to himself before starting the sentence again, “The bus they had to take next was late and kept them waiting a long time on a street corner, and when it did come, it was crammed with garrulous high-school children. It began to rain as they walked up the brown path leading to the sanatorium.” He continued reading, his English seeming to get better and more pronounced as he practiced aloud, and you listened in a trance, watching him for a while before looking out at the bouncing rain.

Vladimir’s soothing voice lilted in the air as you took another sip of coffee and looked back at Vladimir’s handsome face, admiring the angles of his strong jaw and the stylized facial hair. Dark eyes locked with your own as he finished the last line of the story.

“He had got to crab apple when the telephone rang again.” He closed the book around his finger as he reached for the receipt and marked the page for now. He’d gulped his expresso down in the true way, three quick swigs before he’d continued reading to you. Vladimir smiled as he moved his chair out, “Excuse me a moment. I must use the bathroom.”

“Oh, its fine. I’ll be here when you get back!” You joked as you sipped your coffee and turned your gaze back to the window.

Vladimir’s shoes tapped as he walked across the café to the small, single male toilet. The door was heavy and wooden. A thick fire door. He locked the stall with a snap of his wrist and inhaled the smell of bleach and toilet cleaner before he crouched down over the toilet and pushed the seat out of the way. The vampire drew a vial from his trouser pocket and grimaced at the sight of the heavy Ipecac syrup in the plastic tube. Dracula drew the stopper out before squeezing the tube harshly, feeling it coat his tongue and throat before he tossed it into the waste and swallowed with a violent gag, waiting for the influx of coffee stained stomach lining to pour from his body. He stared into the water, a reflection of bone and ash, and gaged as the first mouthful of vomit dripped past his lips.

“You took a while.” You observed with a light tone as Vladimir returned, sitting at the table with his usual smile. He’d changed his hair, “But now that I look at you, I realise that you spent time messing with your hair. Preening in the mirror were you.”

“My hair was a mess, what can I say.” Vladimir teased as he turned his cup upside down on its saucer, pushing it to the side of the table for the waiting staff to pick up.

Gently, you reached to tuck a long piece of his hair behind his ear, watching the man remain still to let you do so, “I think it looked just fine. You always look handsome, Vlad.”

Vladimir took a deep breath as he caught your hand, pressing it to his cool cheek before he laid a kiss on your palm and leaned forwards, “Just as you are always beautiful.” He complimented before releasing your hand and nodding to the window, “We should make a dash for your home while the rain has paused.” He stood up before you to wrap your coat back around you before storing your book in two layers on plastic bag, “Hopefully we can keep the books dry.”

“Here.” You took your card out and paid for the drinks before he could protest, “You can get the next one, Mister Gentleman.” You teased as you paid and turned.

Vladimir offered you his arm with a chuckle. As your arm wrapped around his own, he purred, “Are you implying you would like to go out again, my dear?”

You jabbed his side with a finger, “Yes I am, you big tease.”

The two of you laughed as the sun set, making the streets of London an even drearier grey, plunging them into darkness. The rain splattered across the pavements and tarmac, drenching everything, making the concrete city smell of ash and rain. You laughed, hand in hand, as you dragged Vladimir across the road, dodging a speeding cabby, who promptly stuck his finger out of his window along with some screamed verbal abuse, and jumped up the curb, heading towards the front door of the side stairs to your apartment above the shop. Vladimir dragged you back under his black umbrella as you rifled through your bag for the keys to your apartment. You laughed as the rain poured off the sides and snatched your leys, unlocking the door. Before you could swing it open, Vladimir pushed himself closer, taking your hand and pushing it against the wood before he dived to claim your lips. A cool kiss pressed to your skin and you responded tentatively to the pressure before opening your mouth and feeling the caress of his tongue. It was cold, chilled from the rain, but full of emotion, a desire that was locked deep inside both of you. The man pressed against you, his free arm dropping to wrap around your waist as you clutched at his neck. He drew back with a heavy exhale and pressed his nose to your throat.

Dracula merely pressed a kiss to the hot skin, fangs sliding free at the feel of hot flesh and the blood pumping under his lips. He relented. He controlled himself and then, he pulled away, looking into your half-lidded eyes, wanting nothing more than to steal another intoxicating kiss.

“What are you?” Vladimir whispered against your cheek, “It is like there is a force. A pull I cannot resist…” He kissed the column of your throat again, “It drives the beast wild.”

“What…” You heaved a breath, “What do you mean?” You asked before he kissed you again. Gently, you pushed him away by the chin, “Not…” You steadied yourself, “Not yet. I don’t…”

Vladimir’s eyes appeared black in the darkness, the whites gone, “I understand. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable.” He pressed another hurried kiss to your cheek, “Goodbye my darling. I will see you again soon, I hope?”

You nodded before opening the door, “I’ll message you.”

Vladimir turned his collar up against the wind, “I await your call.” A ghostly kiss pressed to your face once again before he disappeared. In the time it took you to open your eyes he was gone. There was an ache in your chest that you couldn’t describe as you entered your apartment and flopped onto your sofa.

Your dates and meetings with Vladimir were few and far between as Halloween finally rolled around. Sales of his products went crazy and you found yourself contacting his supply team more and more often in the weeks leading up to the holiday. You closed early on Halloween, watching the kids rush around the streets in their costumes, giggling and screaming with joy as they held buckets of sweets and chocolates in their grasps. There was very little to do but finish tidying up. You jumped at a knock on the door and rolled your eyes as Harker made faces in your window.

You unlocked the door and peeked through the gap, “If you’d learn to read, you’d realise I’m closed.”

“Aw come on, love. I just want a bottle of that brandy you keep selling!” He remarked and you sighed before letting him in, rushing to grab him the bottle so you could get rid of him faster and close for the evening. You had a movie night planned with Drac, your ever faithful grumpy cat. Vladimir had insisted, with much regret, that he was busy tonight.

“Nice vampire costume. Very gimmicky.” You joked as you plonked the pricey bottle of brandy on the counter, “You sure you want to pay for this for a Halloween party?”

“Sure, I’m sure. I have some guests to impress.” Harker joked as he offered his card and slid the chip into the machine.

A black wolf watched from outside the shop, snarling with teeth as it watched you hug Harker and usher him from the shop. The wolf became a man and snarled again before melting into the shadows, wishing a fall upon the accountant as he staggered back to the early starting party from which he had come. The vampire watched, his hand reaching towards the streetlamp as he moulded back into the shape of the great wolf-dog you had shown such love and affection for last time. He craved your touch. The caress of your fingers. It calmed the lust and hatred for a moment in his everlasting existence.

The taste of your skin was sweet.

A whine made you look up from the counter as you finished packing away the cash for the night. A great paw clawed at the glass and you smiled as you caught sight of the dark eyed, great black dog once more. It had been a long time since you’d seen it. You’d assumed it had been taken in or disappeared altogether. You walked towards the door and unlocked it, letting the hound inside the shop. He was dry this time and the dog rushed to jump up at you, snuffling and licking at your face as it whined and wagged its tail.

“Hey there. Its been a long time since I’ve seen you.” You cooed as you pushed the wolf-dog down and ran your hands through its thick fur, enjoying the warmth trapped in its fur as the animal curled around your legs close.

The dog sniffed his way to your door to upstairs and you smiled before sighing, locking the doors and lowering the shutters before you headed to the door and pointed at the big dog, “You can come up but only if you promise to behave, okay?” The dog stared at you and you opened the door, watching him bound on before you, up the stairs, turning on the landing to watch you follow it up.

He barked sharply and you laughed, “Okay, okay, I’m coming!” You petted his nose as you took the scruff of his neck and opened the door.

Drac, your cat, scowled from the counter in the open kitchen as you eased the dog inside. He hissed, jumping up his fur on end as you looked between them. The dog was silent, watching your cat with a mild amount of interest.

“Come on Drac, be nice. He’s just here for the night. I’ll call the rescue service in the morning.” You cooed at your cat let go of the dog and watched the two glare at each other before Drac jumped up on top of your cabinets and bedded down for the night away from the new house guest. You fixed yourself dinner as the dog padded around. He saw fit to laying underneath your window, dark eyes looking up at the moon, ears pointed back to listen to the noise you were making in the kitchen. It slept as you ate, black fur like silk against your wooden floor. Only when you plonked yourself on the sofa did it open its eyes and perk up, standing from the floor in favour of pushing its way onto your couch.

“Come on, you can’t get up here.” You scolded before the wolf-dog was in your lap, its giant head rested in the crook of your arm, its tongue licking at you as a sign of peace and contentment. With a soft sigh, you began to work your fingers through its fur and turned on the television, content to watch the movies you had planned with your hot drink and the dog in your lap.

“Sleep my love. Sleep without fear. Tonight, I will keep the darkness at bay.”

You felt your eyelids drop at the movie, your hand combing the fur before fisting at the hound in your lap, holding onto the beast as you listened to the movie and the soft lines whispered by a deep voice. A tongue lapped at your cheeks as you felt the great hound exhale. You lulled off into a pleasant, warm sleep, wrapped around the mysterious dog.

“For tonight, your dreams will be mine.”

An old castle stood before you when you opened your eyes, as though you had been awake, and just blinked on a walk. Black silk rippled over you as you walked towards the castle in a dark trail of liquid dress. It almost flowed from you as you opened the great doors and peered inside. There was silence in the main hall, a great shadow of a cross blinding you as you peered down at the stone. You walked through the last of the sun’s orange light and cast no shadow as you moved towards the old, grand staircase. The stone was laid with plush carpet, Turkish and heavy, thick against the soles of your bare feet as you climbed, gazing at old paintings of great battles. Red curtains hung from the ceiling and you ran your hand along one as you reached the top of the stairs, feeling the fine material before you continued, walking in the direction of the ache in your chest. More old stone connected with your fingers as you continued into a labyrinth of corridors before eventually arriving at another old door, the wood engraved with a dragon spewing fire towards its own tail, curled around a sword. With a gentle push, you eased one door open enough to slide into the room.

Warm candlelight greeted you, four giant floor-standing candelabras lit with twenty of so candles each glowing in every corner. A man made no move to greet you, laid across a luscious canopy bed, surrounded by sheer white fabric, hidden from sight. You walked over animal skins and pulled aside the sheer fabric to see a man asleep in a thin, billowed cotton shirt, his trousers loose as though he had simply collapsed into bed. Gently, you eased his face to the side and smiled down at the picture of your mysterious suitor. Vladimir’s sleeping face was restful and calm. A smile curled across his face, telling you he had never been asleep. The man reached to grab you with a great laugh, easing you into his lap on the bed, your hips pressed together as he reached to move a veil you did not know you were wearing.

“My love.” His words burned your throat with adoration, “I have missed you. My heart has longed for you.” You watched his lips move to reveal fangs and reached for his face gently, thumbs pressing to the points. He drew your hands away before continuing, “The beast in me cannot be sated without you, my little tamer.” He rushed to kiss you soundly, thoroughly, moulding his front to your own as his hands sought to pull at the silk covering you to reveal skin and flesh.

You remained silent, soaking in the adoration in his touches and kisses as sharp teeth grazed at your skin.

“I remember your scent.” He purred as his features blended into something more beastly, his red eyes burning as his mouth filled with wolf-like teeth, “I kept your clothes close, everything to remember you.” The beast snarled, a wolfman’s claws tugging at your clothing. You watched the beast, mouth open, wondering where this dream was going as he laid back and pulled you on top of him, “Please, my dearest, let me feel you. I have missed you.” He blathered as you leaned over to kiss him again, tongue catching against the fangs in his mouth, blood mixing with spit. He was cold underneath your hands as you raised yourself, palms against his pectorals. You reached for his groin as he tore his shirt free and pulled his bottoms away enough to reveal his cock. As you grasped him you felt his nose press against your throat, human and cold. Raising your gaze, you looked back at a human shape with a mouth full of teeth, spit dripping between his jaws as they unhinged wide and grasped at your shoulder. With a cry of agony and bliss, you gouged your nails into his back and opened your eyes to see bats fly from the window, screaming into the sunset as your lover’s tongue licked blood from your neck. He dragged you down for another kiss then, blood and spit mixing as you slid him inside of you.

Dracula felt himself stir in the dream, watching as a woman clad in black slid into his bedchambers. He remembered the woman and played at being asleep on the bed as the faceless creature parted the silks and crawled along his body, fingers teasing over his face, admiring his bone structure before he turned to catch her, dragging her hands up before he grinned with fangs and drew her into his lap.

“I’ve waited for you to return.” He purred, feeling the beasts of the darkness howl and coil outside in the beginnings of the night, “I have missed you.” The vampire drew her wrists closer and licked at the skin exposed out of the silk sleeve, “I have missed the taste of you, my love.”

She said nothing as she mounted his hips, watching through the black veil as he grunted, pushed back against the bed by some invisible force, his wrists pinned to the cushions and furs. Her hands dance over his chest and he feels the pull of his own change, howling as wings spread from his back and claws grab for her. He is naked, he realises with a start, before she draws her fingers between her legs and reveals a wetness to his gaze. The bat-like form howls at the scent, and Dracula pumped his hips upwards as her legs spread and she welcomes him inside of her. The hooked claws of his wings slam into the wooden frame of the canopy bed, anchoring him as his clawed hands reach to pull the veil free.

Your face peers down at him, a mouthful of blood dripping from your lips as you look at the hole his other wing had made in your chest. He watched the hole between your breasts close and opened his mouth for a bloodied kiss. As he gazed up, claws shredding the silk covering your skin, he slowed his own hips, snarling when you refused to let him slow. A pair of greying wings thrust over his vision, appearing over your head, a thousand eyes glaring at him from within the feathers. The vampire’s claws snapped the faceless woman close, clutching her close before Death’s bony hands covered his eyes, the two eyes within each of the bony palms rolling, looking into his own in the darkness as he felt the form over him melt away into ash in his arms. Darkness crippled him, dragging his form in on itself.

“She is not yours yet, Dracul.” Death whispered in his ear, “Not unless you can give me what I want?” The cloaked figure appeared before him in the darkness, wings burning with fire that was once radiant.

Dracula snapped his own leathery wings, “What do you want from me so badly?! Is it so worthy of you making my dreams so miserable and tormenting me with the agony I have suffered a thousand times over!?”

Death watched him for a moment before opening its palms, “One death.” He whispered.

“Give me the name.” The vampire hissed.

“Her.” Death offered him a burning flame, “I want her death.” He laid the small burning fire of your life in his hands before stroking the vampire’s leathery wings, “I need her life, but her soul is yours.”

The vampire whipped around with claws and fangs in the darkness, but there was no one there to listen to his dark screams of anguish.

You awoke to an empty sofa and old horror movies still rerunning. Drac had taken the hounds place in your arms, curled tightly against you. You frowned and looked up as a chilly breeze graced your legs. The open window let in another frigid gust of air and you rushed to close it as a great black smog rushed around the corner of the building, just in the corner of your eyes. You ran a hand through your hair and swallowed as you remembered the dream that had haunted you last night. You clicked off the TV and clicked the hot water on before starting to make yourself some breakfast to distract yourself from the realness of what you had seen.

“Halloween is crazy.” You muttered as you boiled some water for a hot drink.


	5. Chapter 5

Anne’s ability to remain sober was yet to be seen. Dracula felt amusement ripple through him as his shadowed fingers moved along the walls of her basement home once again. She was asleep in front of her sofa, sleeping off the night shift she had just finished. The sun wasn’t up yet this late into the winter, and so, Dracula’s powers were not weakened by the threat of the sunrise. His smoke curled from the shadows, rippling in a wave down the walls, collecting on the floor like a pool of liquid nitrogen, cold and churning. The vampire’s form took shape within the rippling cloud before he reached within to produce the Van Helsing’s family book. The cracked leather back contacted the coffee table with a dull thump and Dracula turned his red eyes on the sleeping form of Anne. She didn’t stir. The vampire opened the book to the front page as he reformed into a human shape, his gloved fingers peeling free a page of her notebook silently. Dracula took her pen from the table and penned out a message in old cursive just to spite the woman’s eyesight.

‘Perhaps we can talk about the mysteries of the darkness once more in the morgue? This evening.’

With a curl to the end of his name, the vampire tucked the note inside the front cover and closed the book carefully, admiring the old cursive of Abraham’s writing as he made sure to place it in front of her. The vampire snatched the whiskey from her hand and replaced the lid before moving to tuck it away in her cabinet once more. He paused as he peered inside at the three other bottles. He looked at the label of the bottle in his hand, contemplative of such a desire to drink, before he replaced it in her cupboard and left in a rush of cold mist, trickling from her window over the small garden and out into the night once more.

Anne woke up with a start. Her neck burned with agony from being laid against her armchair, her head pressed back against the side of the headrest. With a groan, she raised her head and clutched at the back of her neck, trying to rub some blood flow back into the region. The sunlight was harsh against her eyes. She’d forgotten to close the curtains again when she got home. Anne looked at the window, glaring at the sunshine as she untucked herself from the armchair and glanced at the heavy, coffee table in front of her. Her blue eyes widened with disbelief as she gazed at the leather cover of her family’s Vampirology book. It was laid beside her empty whiskey tumbler. In a rush, she grasped the book from the table and cracked open the cover. A piece of paper skittered free, flopping onto the side of the armchair. Anne scowled as she plucked the paper from the armrest. Vladimir. That damn Vampire had been in her home once more. She read the cursive and scoffed before angrily slamming her book down onto the coffee table.

“That fucking vampire.” She ran her fingers through her hair, huffing and puffing to herself as she stormed over to the window and looked though. It was open. She slammed the window shut before balling Dracula’s note into a small ball and throwing it at her desk in the corner of the lounge. With a growl she kicked the armchair before taking a deep breath and picking up the balled-up note and rereading it. On the back there was a carefully written date and time.

It wasn’t like she had much of a choice. The King of Vampires knew where she lived anyway.

The packets of cigarettes weren’t really a good substitute for the drinking, Anne figured out as she stood on top of the hospital roof, by the huge incineration chimneys. The incinerators were not burning, so she was free to smoke up on the roof for a while.

A rush of wind made her shudder before a smooth voice spoke behind her, “It is a beautiful night.” Dracula purred from above her. She pushed away from the wall and took a long drag of her cigarette as she looked up at the vampire who hung from the bar fixings of a satellite on the roof. A creature wrapped in its own wings morphed into the shape of a man, covered in a dark coat. He flopped from the bar yet landed like a predator, gracefully on his feet, his black coat hiding his form, wrapped around him tightly. Anne tapped the end of her cigarette, flicking ash onto the floor as she watched the monster walk across the roof, his heeled shoes silent against the concrete.

“Maybe for beasts like you. I’m fucking cold.” She took another drag of her cigarette and ignored the vampire as he loomed over her, stood inches from her back.

Dracula grinned with fangs, “Those sticks will kill you, hunter.” His voice curled in her ears like a dark promise.

“I’ll be dead with the liver cirrhosis first.” Anne stubbed the end out against the bricks before she dropped the end into the wall mounted ashtray, “What do you want, Dracula? Weren’t we meant to meet in the morgue?”

Anne turned around into his chest and scowled at the closeness, looking up at his human face with distaste. A pale face was framed with dark hair which twisted with a mind of its own. His eyes were human-like, the dark brown almost black as he rubbed at the pointed facial hair on his jaw. The vampire’s hands stretched out between the two of them, and his fingers uncurled to reveal a single glass vial.

“Your blood?” Anne looked at the vial suspiciously, “What do you want me to do with it?”

Dracula’s other hand disappeared behind his own back before Anne gasped. A smoky hand revealed itself, her blade clutched in his hand. The vampire grinned with a hiss, mocking her as he tossed the weapon behind himself.

“Do what you want with it. Try and find a way to kill me. Seek cures for your diseases or simply drink it. I care not.” He hissed at the sight of her crucifix and flicked a finger, watching the silver melt from her neck before he continued, “Consider it a payment in blood for your…help.” He drawled the word before dropping the vial into Anne’s outstretched hand, “May its mysteries unravel swiftly, Doctor.”

She wasn’t fooled. Dracula wasn’t an idiot. He wanted her to have his blood for a reason.

“You’re a creature of lies, Dracula. I’m not an idiot. I know when I am being made fun of.” Anne eyed the blade behind his imposing figure, “You must know, that after six hundred years, there is no return from the damnation of death you have chosen?”

Dracula looked at her, his eyes bleeding to red as the wind whipped at both of them, “The blood is the life.” He offered before he stepped back towards the shadows, his body melting into them as he flashed white fangs, “Perhaps you can find the answers of that life?” He laughed as he disappeared, not a trace of his red eyes or white teeth left in the shadows of the hospital as Anne rushed for her blessed blade.

The vial of blood was cold in her hand and she looked at the label with her glasses perched on the end of her nose. His office number was penned over the sticky note.

The vampire watched the moon as he soared over the London rooftops, contemplating the foolishness of his own actions. Perhaps, he had just handed the key to his demise to a Van Helsing. The last descendant of the line. The last one that could kill him. There was a secret in his own condition. What he was could not be changed, he was too steeped in blood for that, but perhaps he could find the key to saving someone? Death wanted you. It wanted your life, but your soul would be damned, slipping through his fingers to hell if he did not act before the creature sought to take you. To condemn a person to darkness was for them to never be the same. A walking corpse and a shell of a person, filled with the desire to drink, sin and kill. He remembered, vividly, the feeling of your spectre on top of him and wondered if that was the future as he opened his wings and swooped down towards St.Paul’s Cathedral. His claws gripped at the tip of the spire on top of the dome. The night was loud beneath the building, taxis beeping still in the streets below. Humans never did truly rest anymore. Dracula peered at the stars with hellish eyes and watched the clouds roll over them, a cold fog dripping over the buildings around him from the drop in temperature.

Dogs barked as he soared away from the cathedral, his wings spread as he caught the frigid wind and climbed higher over the city, gazing down at the orange streetlamps glittering below. It was a beautiful place, full of life even at a late hour. He compared his previous knowledge about London to its current state and purred at the delightful tastes of the humans scuttling below. People from all walks of life. Thinking of the taste of blood made him hunger for it and the vampire circled slowly towards the night time clubbing scene as he thought on the words of Death. Her death. As he landed, he felt his wings fall back into a coat and looked at the entrance to one of the rock bars. A man was outside in the fresh air of the side alley, looking up at the sky. His arms were covered in gooseflesh as she shivered in the cold of the November air, his vest clearly not the correct choice for the weather. Dracula watched from the streetlamp as he pulled his phone from his pocket and began typing something on it. The vampire walked across the road, his dark eyes flashing as he turned his influence on the man, churning his thoughts with desires he never knew he had until the darkness played with them. The man turned his head and opened his mouth as he looked at the vampire walking towards him.

Dracula peered down at the young man, “Good evening.” Hypnotism clouded the man’s eyes as he reached to brush a finger over his cheek, nail dragging against the skin.

“Your place or mine?” He asked as he tucked his phone back into his pocket.

The vampire pressed him against the alley and covered his eyes before feeling the heaviness of hunger in his gut and the sharpness of his own teeth, “Here is fine.” He muttered as he exposed the man’s neck, holding his legs open so it would appear like a tryst in the alleyway if anyone were to walk past. His gloved hand muffled the scream that escaped the man as he bit into his neck, hard and deep. Blood spurted over his tongue as he lapped at the wounds, sucking harshly before it started to flow by itself, the artery spurting violently from the damage of his teeth. His stomach ached with fullness as he tore himself away and licked at the wounds, looking at the puckered flesh as he cleaned the neck completely clean. Dracula took his scarf from his own neck and wrapped it around the man’s shoulders and neck, hiding the damage as he tucked him close to the alley entrance and slipped into the shadows once more.

“You will remember nothing of this. Go home. Sleep.”

A moment later, the man awoke with a groan, clasping his neck and head in pain before he shivered and pulled the shawl of the scarf tighter around himself, hailing a taxi from the side of the road. The vampire licked blood from his chin as he turned down a side road, the feed not helping to clear his mind any.

“I’ll be home tomorrow morning, Drac. Sue said she’d come in and check in on you early and I filled your bowls.” You looked at your cat and sighed. He was sulking, tucked up on top of the cupboards again out of the way, “Be good!” You tugged his tail and dodged his paw before you picked up your overnight bag and headed towards your door. You locked it and tugged the handle before descending the stairs and heading towards the pavement. There, parked up on the curb, was a slick black car. The tinted glass slid down smoothly, and Vladimir poked his head out of the car, his sunglasses perched on the end of his nose as he smiled at your approach.

“Somehow I’m not surprised by the BMW.” You joked as you looked at him through the window. He was dressed in a heavy turtleneck jumper, his hair tied back with tight jeans ironed to perfection. Vlad open the door of the driver’s seat and shuddered in the cold.

“It was more money than I expected to pay.” He opened the back of the car with a press of a button and huffed, “I think the dealer got most of what I paid.”

“Imagine that being your only concern.” You laughed and rolled your eyes, “It is a gorgeous car.” You complimented as you put your bag in the back and walked around to the passenger seat. Vladimir made no move to open you the door but simply climbed back inside and pushed the stick into gear as you clipped your belt into place.

“Let us go, then. I have a few things for us to do.” He pulled away from your home and shop with a spin of the wheel.

“Does that list include the movies you promised?” You glanced around at the interior of the car.

“But of course!”

His home was as grand as ever, though devoid of any extra staff this time. You looked at the wood to carpet floors and sighed. It was a dream home. You looked at the curtains and rugs and smile at the change from red to purple.

“Did you get new curtains because of me?” You asked as you pulled your coat free and felt your hair. It was raining outside, in a typical November fashion, and you made sure to hang your coat a little closer to the radiator on the stand, so it would dry and not smell too musty from the rainwater.

Vladimir tugged at his jumper and decided it was dry enough to not change before he replied, “I might have changed them. I decided royal purple was more fit for a woman of your stature, madame.” He dipped to take your hand, kissing it like a prince before he laughed joyously and twirled you under his arm.

You were a little overwhelmed with the treatment and blushed at the attention as Vladimir spun you towards the stairs.

“You can put your bag in the guest bedroom.” Vladimir pointed to the top of the stairs and turned his finger to the right, “It is the door to the right of the bathroom. Second door on the right.”

“Oh, thank you.” You smiled and took your bag handles in your hand before climbing the stairs to deposit your things in the guest bedroom.

It smelt of fresh roses. Fresh Tudor roses sat in a vase on the vanity by the window. The soft scent wafted across the fresh bedding and permeated from the curtains that were drawn over the window. It was dark now outside, the winter making the days incredibly short. With another inhale of the fresh smell, you placed your bag on the bed and smiled around at the décor. It was all expensive. Real wood and shined wax surfaces with rich coloured walls. There was even a canopy bed. You pulled the ties from the sheer curtains and watched them fall with a grin. It was a room fit for a princess. You took your toiletry bag from your satchel and walked to the vanity. It was cleaned and lined with intricate glass bottles, made for expensive oil-based perfumes. The toiletries in your bag paled in comparison to how much the Egyptian glass bottles must have cost Vladimir. The stopper was hard to pull out but when it popped free you hummed at the smell of the Myrrh based perfume. You looked at the oil inside and frowned as the liquid dripped up to the edge of the bottle. A drop of oil clung to the corner and you pressed your finger to it before dabbing it against your neck. Another drop followed it. It dripped, floating upwards before dropping back into the bottle as though it had never defied gravity. You took the stopper and tapped it back into the bottle before dabbing the oil on your neck, a dot behind each ear and one on each wrist. It was a heavy smell. A light scent of cinnamon mixed in with cardamom behind a heavy base of Myrrh.

Vladimir was sprawled out on a large sofa in the lounge, his feet up on a stool and his fingers playing with the buttons of his remote control for the television. You smiled as you entered the room, playing with the corner of your top before you sat in the spare seat next to him, tucking your feet under yourself as you looked at the television. He’d been passing the time with dramas, though his phone on the cushions told you he hadn’t been bothered for actually watching what was playing. Vladimir held his arm up off the cushions and curled the fingers of his other hand. For a moment, you were apprehensive, but you were quickly swayed by the idea of a hug, and scooted along the cushions before letting Vladimir tug you close, hugging you to his side as he offered you the television remote.

“Guest’s choice first, my dear.” Vladimir let you take the remote and ran his fingers over your hair before lowering his nose beneath your chin, “Did you use a perfume?” He asked as he tucked cold fingers under your chin, swiping it over your skin before sniffing at the smell on his hands, “Myrrh is expensive. A good choice.”

Embarrassment coloured your skin, “It smelt nice so I…”

“I’m not mad. They are made for using.” Vladimir cooed before he watched you open the various streaming services he had.

“What was it that you wanted to watch?” You asked Vladimir as he pushed your drink across the coffee table and handed you a menu for take-out.

The business owner hummed, “There was a film.” He opened his hand before pointing to the screen as you scrolled over a film, “That one. About…Ah yes. The monster and the woman. Apparently, it won awards, no?” He asked as you clicked open the film for him to see.

“It did win a lot of awards, yeah.” You confirmed as he settled back against the cushions, his arm wrapped around you firmly, holding you against his side as you pressed play, “What do you want to order?” You asked, holding out the menu for him to see, “Chinese?”

“I’m not hungry. I had a business dinner before three o’clock. Order what you want, my dear. I’ll pay for it.” He offered as you hummed, “I have heard that the chow mein from there is good.”

You laughed at his pronunciation but nodded none the less, “I think I’ll get that then.” The menu had the number on the back, and you rang to order before returning your attention back to the movie that Vladimir had requested be put on. It was about a mute woman and her fish god lover. You quickly became entranced, warily pressed up against Vladimir as his hand circled your waist.

The blood pumping against him was a temptation he was now very able to resist. Hundreds of years meant he could control himself. It was a short leash, and he felt the urge to simply feel the crunch of bone and meat under his teeth intensely. His leash grew a little shorter as he ghosted his fingers over your wrist, feeling the thumping of a nervous heart underneath the skin. Dracula’s ear perked at the door and he took the excuse to escape the blood and flesh that felt so divine underneath his fingers. He heard you pause the movie and cursed that you were listening.

“Hi. Chinese delivery.” The driver offered him the bag of food.

The vampire smiled thinly, “Thank you.” He gave the man a twenty-pound note, “Now please take your multi-tool and cut your arm.” The words were carried on a heavy breeze, thick and laced with temptation. The delivery man’s eyes went cloudy, unfocused as he tugged a swiss army knife from his pocket and flicked open the blade. The vampire watched him cut the skin and hissed through his teeth, opening his mouth as the man held his arm higher in the air, letting blood fall from his skin. Dracula shuddered as he opened his mouth to catch the stray drops. He licked the skin with a cold tongue, smearing pink spit in his wake as he sucked fast mouthfuls of blood into his mouth, thankful all the curtains were drawn to hide him.

“Have you got enough money to pay?”

The vampire released the wound and licked the blood from his mouth, his meal settling in his stomach. He licked a drop of blood from the plastic bag handle and wiped at his mouth.

“Have a good evening, sir.” He spun his index finger and watched the delivery driver nod and disappear back towards his car, blood dripping down towards his fingers, “I’ve got enough don’t worry.” He clinked some coins in his pocket and closed the door as the driver pulled out of his drive and onto the street. He grabbed a tissue and wiped his face. There was only a small trickle of blood and he sucked at his teeth before he went to the kitchen to fetch you a plate and cutlery.

Vladimir smiled under your gaze as he entered the lounge again, “I got you a few things. I didn’t know whether you would eat it out of the box?” He placed the plate and cutlery down followed by your food.

“Thank you. You’re sweet.” You cooed at him as he sat back down, “Oh. I think they spilt some sauce on the box.” You grumbled at the splodge of blood on top of the plastic box. He felt his heart sink a little before you simply wiped it away with a curl of your nose. Dracula smiled as you tucked into the food, settled back at his side as you ate quietly. He restarted the movie, feeling relief flood his system as you didn’t question the mysterious red substance.

The beast purred at the idea of the next meal being you. His gripped your thigh gently to ground himself. You were not a meal to be eaten and wasted. He wouldn’t throw you at Death’s feet.

After a movie named ‘The Others’ you both decided it was getting to be late. You looked at the clock and hummed against his side, fingers curling into the black jumper over Vladimir’s chest. It was a fine make, expensive wool soft under your fingers, and you smiled sleepily up at him as he adjusted you, sitting you in his lap, your thighs either side of his own. It was intimate, but you found your heart soaring at the contact and at the idea of where it meant you both were with each other.

“Are you tired, my dear?” He asked softly, his nose pressed to your ear before he leaned down to kiss your shoulder, the smell of Myrrh intoxicating.

“Mmm.” You hummed, fingers playing with the ends of his beautifully wavy hair, the dark, black locks slipping through your fingers like snakes.

“Would you like to rest now?” Vladimir made a pleased noise at the attention to his hair.

Your fingers paused in his locks, “I’d like a shower…If that’s alright?” You asked quietly.

“That is more than fine.” He nodded before letting you stand up, his cool fingers lingering against your hands as you stood, “You know where the bathroom is, yes?”

“First door on the right. I know.”

“I’ll bring you some fresh towels.” He promised as you left the room, closing the door behind you.

The vampire felt his stomach churn with an unknown sensation, the memory of you against him, burned into his skin like a fever.

The water was hot against your skin, soothing the ache in your back from working at the counter the whole day serving tourists. You rubbed at your skin with the minty smelling soap, enjoying the tingle of peppermint over your skin as you washed the lather of soap away. The wet room was slate and sparklingly clean. The glass fogged and you turned in the spray, admiring the chrome shelving and posh soaps and shampoos Vladimir had carefully lined up. A need burned in your stomach, but you ignored the temptation to stir the fire smouldering down there as you turned and swiped at the fog over the glass. Vladimir’s cool hands would make a better job of sating your desires. You were quick to dismiss the idea and turned back into the hot water. That was until the door creaked open behind you.

“I have brought you towels.” Vladimir spoke from the door before pausing, watching your skin disappear as the swiped area of the glass fogged back up, slowly making your form disappear from his view once more, “Forgive me…” He spoke loud enough to just be heard over the harsh spray of water, “But you are beautiful.” Vladimir complimented as he placed the pile of fresh towels on top of the toilet lid

Burning water did not cool your skin as you listened to his voice. You turned under the hot water as you listened to him step closer to the shower screens. You heart thudded in your chest, shaking your hands as you took a step closer to the glass as well.

“You are radiant.” Vladimir purred, “Gorgeous like a goddess. Something to be worshipped.” You looked at the figure beyond the foggy glass and watched him place his hand against the screen.

All of a sudden, you managed to find your voice, “Is that what you say to them all?” The words were half choked in your throat, but Vladimir heard them all the same.

“I have only said those words once before…and she is gone now.” He promised. You could feel the agony in his words and you glanced at the glass before wiping away the condensation to reveal his face, intense eyes looking into your own, despite not being able to see you until a moment ago, “She is dead and no other has ever…filled the hole.” He pressed his forehead to the glass. His dark eyes shimmered with a colour you had never seen before he smiled and turned away from you, “I will leave you. I apologise for being so forward.”

Before he could leave, you opened the shower door and grabbed for a towel, hiding your body from his eyes before he could see you again.

“I…I don’t.” Your mouth seized as his eyes turned darker, a smirk curling on his lips as he admired you, even hidden behind a towel.

“Won’t you let me see you?” Vladimir whispered, “Won’t you let me worship you?” He asked as he came closer, his hands reaching to cup your waist as he looked into your eyes.

Your heart thundered underneath his touch, “I don’t know if I should let you.”

Vladimir’s nose pushed under your chin as he smelt the heavy scent of the Myrrh perfume still clinging to your damp skin, “And why not? Why deny yourself such pleasure?”

You reached for his hair again and pushed it away from his cheek, “Because I don’t feel like I know you.” You confessed, “I don’t know who you really are.”

Vladimir looked at you, your faces close, your noses brushing together before he leaned down to place a single kiss to your lips.

Together, you melded against one another, hands clutching each other at you deepened the kiss a little. He pulled away as quickly as the feverishness began.

“I can tell you. Soon, I will tell you everything.” He promised as you looked at his handsome face. His eyes were wet, red at the corners before he hugged you tightly, “I…I think I feel something deeply for you. I understand this is a lot.” He confessed to you in a rush, shuddering against you as though he was crying.

“I…” Your mouth was dry, “I think I feel the same, but I don’t…I can’t explain it.” You whispered against his jumper.

Vladimir pushed his fingers into your flesh, as though you were going to disappear, “I can’t either.” He agreed, “But I know that I want to be with you…However you want me.” The man fell to his knees, “I am your servant.” The man’s hands grazed up your legs, slowly, dragging cold lines behind his fingertips as he looked up at you, hair falling over his eyes and cheeks.

You reached for his face with a soft smile, “I don’t want a servant.” He let you tug him back to his feet, “I want an equal.”

Vladimir’s lips met your own in a crush of passion, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he held you as close as he could manage, his arms moving from your face to clutch your body close.

“Do you think you could love a monster?”

“If that monster loved me, I could.”

The sound of an alarm sounding woke you up. It was loud, a persistent beeping noise against the drowsiness in your head. It was sharp and ear piercing. You rushed to find your phone at the noise, rustling in the duvet to find it. After a moment, you opened your eyes, and found the phone on top of the nightstand. You silenced your alarm and groaned into the room as you tried to force the sleep from yourself. The room was silent now. You dragged your phone from the stand and squinted at the time before rolling over and realising you were alone. It was nine in the morning and Vladimir was nowhere to be seen. You sat up with the sheets and looked down at yourself. You were naked yet there was no ache in your body. There was no mess either. Nothing had happened. You remembered laying on top of Vladimir, kissing him between tales from his homeland as you listened and learned. The tale of the beast in the castle. The River Princess. The fog in the hills. All of it fascinated you. You’d listened to the sound of his voice, late into the evening, tracing patterns on his skin as he rumbled with laughter.

The bedside table rustled as you placed your hand on it. You frowned and gripped a piece of paper. It was labelled with your name. You unfolded the paper and looked at the note inside. Vladimir had an early meeting to attend. A sadness curled in your chest as you sat up properly and peered at the grandness of Vladimir’s own bedroom. You got out of the bed and walked over to his vanity before frowning. All the mirrors were covered in black silk, hidden out of view. You pulled back one of the sheets and looked in the floor standing mirror. It was in good shape yet old, like an antique. Your own face looked back before you re-covered the mirror. There wasn’t anything different in Vladimir’s room until you caught sight of the great portrait on the old chimney breast. A painted man looked down at you, a sword laid across his lap. You looked at the sword mounted underneath the painting and gazed in awe at the sharpness and magnificence of them both. Wondering if he was a collector, you took one of Vladimir’s red robes from his door and tied it around your waist before venturing to get some breakfast.

Dracula hissed as the door closed, blood spurting from his mouth, his latest meal laid in the soil next to him as he purred, claws slipping further into the earth as he listened to you move. The sound of silk over skin made him gurgle again as he closed his eyes, wishing that the night could replay over and over in his mind.

_‘I know you have gone home but thank you for spending last night with me. I adored it. Will I see you again soon?’_

You smiled down at your phone as you paused eating your lunch inside your shop. You replied with a witty comment and waited for his reply before going back to your lunch, thinking on the way Vladimir’s hands could hold you in other ways. Your brain skittered into the gutter for the rest of the afternoon.

Anne held the glass slide in her hand as she tried to comprehend what she was holding in her hand. It was beyond what she had seen before. Nothing compared. No disease had such virulence nor the ability to do what she had seen from Dracula’s own cells. His lymphatic cells were an amazing thing to watch, simultaneously killing and repairing the red blood cells, making them immortal. The blood she had originally was just as active now in her hands. She’d injected a rat with a small does, just to see what happened. The beast had appeared unfazed initially. Slowly, it had died off, its legs stopping working before she did the kindness and put the animal to sleep. It hadn’t died from the drugs. She ended up having to take the creature’s head off. Immortality. The rat was impervious to chemicals and drugs that could kill. It was an amazing thing, but Anne wasn’t swayed. She knew what the blood meant, and what it was capable of. A constant state of death and life. A curse upon those who were infected with Dracula’s blood. Damnation from God. Rejection of the light was not curable. She needed to tell the vampire that. He was beyond the help of mortals. Damned forever. He could live as a hunted beast or die by her hands.

“A frown makes you look older.” Dracula rumbled from underneath her. Red eyes opened in her shadow and Anne jumped backwards as the beast slid from her shadow and coalesced into a physical form. The shadows swirled into the human form of Dracula and Anne levelled him with a look of contempt.

“Has six hundred years taught you no manners?” She huffed as he drew the vial of the vampire’s blood from her coat and held it up for him to see. There was a little more than half left, “I wanted to tell you about this.” She tossed the blood back at the vampire.

Dracula caught the vial and took the top from the vial, smelling his own blood before he stuck out a pointed, long tongue, a mouth full of pointed teeth opening wide as he took his own blood back into himself.

“What did you find, Anne?” He asked as he tucked his hands into his pockets, licking blood from his bottom lip.

“Everything I expected to find. Your own cells are killing themselves and then repairing at a rate that is explosive. You shouldn’t be moving at all.” She huffed, “Though I suppose you aren’t alive. You’re a monster. A walking corpse.” Anne took a holy blade from her sleeve and watched as the vampire’s hair waved over his head in a mind of its own.

“You raise a blade to me after I gave you the answer to eternal life?” Dracula’s voice boomed off the concrete of the rooftop, “After I gave you the answers to everything?” He snarled as his hair covered his face, blood red eyes burning through the strands as he took his hands from his pockets and watched the hands grow and shift into snarling curls of shadowy monsters.

“I raise my blade at a beast and a monster. A creature that has killed for fun, enjoyment and sport. You enjoy all of this. You enjoy playing with people like a game!” She hissed at him as she drew a long sword from her belt. A sword and a dagger. Dracula’s mouth opened up the sides of his face as he faced the hunter, eyes peering from a moving creature of shadows.

“This is the face of life!” He howled at Anne, shadows bursting from him as dogs howled at the night sky below.

“You are nothing but corruption and death!” She shouted back, her feet planted firmly on the floor as the vampire hissed and spat across from her. Without another thought, she sent a small blade flying towards his red eyes. The shadows moved into two pieces, and the dagger flew through him before she was upon him with blessed steel. Her swipes swished through nothing but air as Dracula soared into the sky above her and dived, great clawed talons scratching at her face. Anne launched her dagger at him as he climbed once more and grinned at the vampire howled, blood spurting from his grey skinned side.

With a growl, she watched the vampire soar into the night sky, escaping with her blade lodged under his ribs. The night sky was littered with cold looking stars, clouds rolling over the moon as she watched the bat wings disappear behind the church and rooftops. It was a moment later that she looked at the scratches on her arms and the trail of wet saliva over one of them. Dracula had tasted her blood. He knew her plans, or at least pieces of them. She cursed the beast as she got to her feet, sheathing her old sword before collecting the holy throwing daggers from the rooftop. Anne tucked her coat back around her weapons and looked at her ward watch which was clipped to her pocket. Her shift started in an hour. She had enough time to return home and clean herself before she had dead bodies to look at and examine.

“I’ll finish my family’s work, Dracula…” She opened the stairs, “Starting with that new toy of yours.” The stairwell doors closed with a resounding slam.


End file.
